


Slipping Through My Fingers

by BlaiddDrwg1982



Series: Future Imperfect [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3B did NOT happen, A little erotica, Aftermath Recovery, Buffy Summers cameo, Cherufe, Cracks in the fourth wall, Derek in Scrubs, Derek is friends with a call girl?, Druid Danny Mahealani, F/M, Full Shift Werewolves, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild S&M, Original Female Character - Freeform, Posthumous Marriage Proposal, Resurrection, Scott Got An Eyeful, Season 3B Happened but the deaths didn't, Secret Diary of a Call Girl makes a slight appearance., Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slave Derek, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow build to make out sessions, Some fighting, Start at the end, Stiles and Willow are related?, Stiles is Jewish, Teen Wolf AU, The Author Regrets Nothing, The author likes the new direction more, The bad guy...is a girl?, The story is going a different direction than plotted, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Toppy!Stiles, What is the author up to, White Room, dreamscape, original character death, that didn't go as planned, white wolf of the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 41,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddDrwg1982/pseuds/BlaiddDrwg1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With long done events at the Nemeton, the draw of the supernatural to Beacon Hills has a ripple effect in history, reaching backwards and forwards, leading to peaks and valleys. It's up to those who remain to ride the waves and make their lives what they will. The love, and the loss in a tight circle of friends will bring them to their breaking point. At the beginning of the tale, a discovery is made.</p><p>In a future imperfect, the journey to happiness is seldom in a straight line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**_Summer 2017_ **

 

"There are a few different way to create a werewolf," Deaton explained in that infuriatingly calm manner he had possessed for as long as they knew him. 

 

"First is the natural way," he pulled out a black satchel and opened the drawstrings. Tracing a rune representing parents on Derek's chest, the ash was oily and did not flake away. The candle above Derek's head lit after the rune flashed. 

 

“Second, is a bite, commonly born from rage," he drew the rune for rage on Scott's chest. The candle below Scott's feet lit after his rune flashed. 

 

"And the third, also a bite, but less frequently, born from love. Now Stiles...are you sure you want to do this?"

 

Stiles looked at the Druid, his face a mask of pain and fear. The tears dried, after having run their tracks through the blood on his face. Derek's blood. 

 

"The only person I love...could ever love, is dying because he thought he killed me. You ask me if I'm sure again..."

 

Deaton, with a pained look, only nodded his head. Drawing the rune to represent love on Stiles' chest, the last of the candles ignited, casting away the shadows from the corners of the room. A circle flashed to life, held by the dust of the mountain ash, made stronger with the intent in Stiles, and fortified with the three runes that were glowing within.

 

"You'll have to do it Stiles. He's too weak," Scott all but croaked, flesh still knitting together. Slowly, to be sure, but he was out of the woods. 

 

Getting up, Stiles crossed the three steps to where He lay, cold as the grave, and just as pale.

 

"You son of a bitch...this isn't how I pictured this."

 

Kissing Derek's shoulder softly, he opened his mouth and bit down.

 

**_18 Months Ago…London England_ **

 

“Derek. Talk to me. Your mind is half a world away, and we both know that THIS isn’t happening.”

 

The blonde was frustratingly calm and cool whenever he saw her. Turning to look at her, the twilight making his eyes flash a blue eyed warning. She merely looked at him, distinctively unimpressed. She was unmoved by the flash of the eyes, by the curve of his ass, or the fact he was completely nude. In her line of work, that was the usual. 

 

“Get dressed Derek. Your flight is in the morning, and the money is on the table. I’m going to make a pot of tea, and we’re going to talk about this. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

 

Giving him a smirk, she pulls on a robe, and moves into the kitchen. Following after her, Derek says in a deadpan voice.

 

“The money’s for you…for this.”

 

Shaking her head, she all but laughs.

 

“We both know this isn’t happening Derek. I don’t take the money if I don’t follow through with my half of the arrangement. Now. Tea and conversation, that’s done for no charge.”

 

“Are you sure Belle?”

 

Looking out from her kitchen, she says softly, “It’s Hannah. Now. Tell me all about this person who has you all tied up.”

 

Smirking faintly, he pulls on his boxers, followed by his jeans. “You mean the person who is so definitely the wrong type for me that I flew half a world away only to fail to be able to perform for one of the best call girls in England, and judging by the fact you’ve told me your real name, I’ll never be hiring again?”

 

Laughing at that description, the woman just nods. “Well I certainly don’t mean the person who runs the nearby Walmart.”

 

A small smile appears on Derek’s lips as he sinks himself into one of the dining room chairs. Leaning back, he looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. “5 foot 10 inches tall, the milkiest white skin I’ve ever seen, these light brown eyes that have a fleck of gold in them in the right light, and completely oblivious to the fact that I feel anything other than the occasional annoyance at some of the running commentary I get faced with from this individual.”

 

Setting down a cup of tea in front of Derek, she took her own seat.

 

“And what’s his name?”

 

With a dopey grin, completely out of character for him, he says the name like it is the most cherished thing in his life.

 

“Stiles.”

 

Hannah watched the drugged smile move across Derek’s face, somewhat relieved that he was, indeed, alright. This was the Derek she had gotten to know when they first met a few years back. Still full of anger and rage, but at least he was able to smile. She’d like to think she got a special look at that side of him. In truth, there were very few people who got to see anything other than the angry and brooding Derek, which in her opinion was a shame.

 

“Given how particular you are with things, I’d imagine he’s built like you are. All hard muscle and ripped?”

 

Derek shook his head at that.

 

“No. I mean, he’s no slouch, but he’s reedy. Fit. Lean muscle. A little softer, but only in the most mouthwatering way you just want to sink your teeth into.”

 

As he described Stiles, his fangs subconsciously grew. Grinning, and lost to his own little world, he let out a small frustrated snarl, like a predator whose prey was juuuuust out of reach.

 

“Long legs that would wrap around and arms that are strong enough that the wall would be…”

 

Blinking, he collected himself, painfully aware of the fact he had a mouth full of fang. Clearing his throat, and scrubbing his face to push away the blush that seems to have extended down his  still bare chest, he sighed.

 

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

 

“Yeah. But, it doesn’t matter. He’s human…no offence. He sees me as a source of amusement at best, or a monster at worst. Sometimes both at the same time. Besides. He seems to follow anything in a skirt…again, no offence, and would probably laugh me out of town if I went up to him and said, ‘Stiles, I know I’ve threatened to kill you more times than either of us can count, you’ve taunted me and pissed me off more than I can remember, and I know that just being friends with Scott has been enough to almost get you killed more than a few times. But what do you say. Want to go steady?’ That would then be the point he’d laugh me out of town, and quite likely would never take me seriously again. I mean, who even says, ‘Go steady’ anymore?!?” Biting at his thumbnail, he took a sip of the rapidly cooling tea.

 

“Nobody except you apparently. And I’d agree that your approach needs a little work, but is that what you’re really worried about? That he’d laugh you out of town, or are you really just worried that he’ll reject you?”

 

Raising an eyebrow, he said with very little heat behind it, “I thought your job was to please men, not make them question themselves.”

 

Shrugging with a grin, she chuckled. “Girl’s gotta have a hobby.”

 

Sitting back in his chair, he slowly sipped the tea, letting the heat pool in his core, and reach out to his finger tips. Feeling himself relax, he set the mug down as Hannah moved to rest her chin on her knee. With a slight twinkle in her eye, she asked. “So. What are you going to do?”

 

Looking her in the eye for a good long moment, he let out the tense sigh he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. 

 

“I don’t know.”


	2. Smooth Stiles...Very Smooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes a few years to make a connection.

Stiles paced Scott's room, for a moment marvelling at the size of it. Not shabby for a single income household in California. If he were more paranoid...and not hopped up on Adderall...he'd start questioning that detail and wonder if there was someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings, and setting up their lives like a T.V. show. A flash of headlights out the window, and hearing Mrs. McCall downstairs, his train of thought derailed and took out a small village of thoughts. That thought was drowned in the hot chocolate he was drinking that was really more kahlua than anything else. Setting the mug down, he looked at Scott.

"And you don't have any idea when he's going to be back. Like, none whatsoever. He just tells you that he's going out of town, flying overseas and he'll see you when he sees you. That sound about right?"

Scott, who even with his fancy werewolf senses can barely follow Stiles' train of thought raises his eyebrow and shakes his head.

"Farley Mowat?"

Scott, for once, was actually trying to take their English course seriously. They were taking their mandatory English course for college, and they stumbled on a Canadian literature course that looked to be quite easy. They were mostly wrong, but the book, "Never Cry Wolf" looked too good to be true. Much to their surprises, they were doing well with the course. 

"No! Scott! Jeez man. I listen to you go on and on and ON about Allison and you, and pining for Allison, and how amazing Allison is when you two are together, that the least you could do is listen to me and agonize over the fact that I was going to tell Derek how I feel about him and maybe see if we can make out or something before we're back to the grind and he is once again left on his own."

At that Scott set the books down, eyes all but bugging out of his head. "Umm...Stiles. We never had that conversation. Like...ever..."

Stiles' eyebrows jumped a half inch...or that could have been a twitch from the four large coffees with espresso shots he'd downed an hour ago. "We didn't?"

Scott shakes his head.

"Ever?"

Scott shakes his head again, utterly dumbstruck.

"So. Hey Scott. I've got something to tell you that might not be easy to hear..."

"You have a crush on Derek and want to touch him in inappropriate ways?"

"Pretty much yeah. That going to be a problem?"

Scott merely shakes his head. "Nope. Just wondering how long it was going to take you to figure that one out."

Stiles stops pacing. "You knew?"

"Dude. Everyone knew. Lydia came up with a mathematical formula to try and predict when you'd figure it out and got pissed when you made it through Senior year without figuring it out. Mom figured we'd be college graduates before then. I figured it out after the entire Kanima debacle. I think the only ones that didn't are you and Derek. You know Mr. Ryans? The 80 year old that stocks the produce down at the store?"

Stiles again just nods his head.

"He figured it would be during Christmas holidays one of these years. Old bastard wins the betting pool. The only two people who hadn't figured it out were you and Derek."

Stiles' jaw drops.

"What was the betting pool up to?"

"Well...2011-2015...everyone dropping in about $10 a year...the pot was up to about $4000."

"Dude. That is NOT cool. Okay. So. Any guesses on how Derek's gonna react? Any subtle hints that I may need to know?"

Scott screwed up a smile and shook his head again. "Sorry man. That part you're on your own. The Pack doesn't have a clue. Not even a guess. Peter, while not the most trustworthy source of information to ever grace the universe, wasn't even too sure. Since Derek lost his Alpha status healing his sister, he'd had to learn to mask what he's been feeling. But giving the fact that the last time Derek was in London, he'd gone on a tour of brothels...I'd say it's definitely a coin toss on how he'll react."

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he slapped his thighs.

"Well thanks for that. Now all I can picture is Derek getting it on with his stables of Hoes, and while that sight in and of itself will keep me warm for a few nights, how am I supposed to contend with that. Thanks Scott. Thanks a lot...you gonna eat that?"

Stiles pointed at the plate.

"Dude...that's a napkin. How much Adderall did you take?"  
***  
Heading down to the pub, he was surprised to see Jackson there. He'd heard that the Kanima turned Werewolf (and asshole turned nice guy) was in town, but given that he was apparently trying to "avoid temptation" it was shocking to see him at the pub. Shocking that is until Stiles caught sight of Danny, Lydia and Allison. Hearing the tell tale sound of pool balls flying around the table, if he had to guess, he would put his money on the fact that Lydia was about to hustle another night of free drinks off their friends. Putting his hands in his pockets, he wandered over, feel more level than the manic state he'd been in when he left the house.   
"Hey everyone. Looks like the gang's back together."

Lydia was across the country, studying at M.I.T. Allison was at Harvard, Danny had joined her, and they got an apartment off campus in second year. Jackson had been back in the U.S. for a couple years, and was studying at West Texas of all places. Apparently it was a very soothing place, and he'd been doing well avoiding temptation. He and Scott had stuck close. Well. Ish. UCLA. Both of them having single parents...they didn't want to roam too far or too wide. It was easy for them to run home if their parents, or the Pack needed them. Even though Jackson, Lydia, Allison and Danny were all considered Pack, Stiles and Scott took their responsibilities quite differently, given that they were the ones that really pushed for them to band together. It hadn't been easy. 

The assembled group gave him a warm smile. For all the ribbing and teasing, they'd all been through so much together that there was no denying their bond.

"Hey Stiles. You up for a game?"

"No Lydia, I'm not in the mood to have my ass handed to me in pool by a size 2. Thanks for the opportunity to lose my money though. Besides. I hear there's about to be another four grand entering the local economy so you won't be needing my pennies."

It came out perhaps a bit more bitterly than anticipated, but damn it, he could have at least been told there was a betting pool. He could have gotten in on it! Or at least asked for a cut.

The rest had the sense to look a bit chastised. 

"So you figured it out finally?"

"What, that I have a throbbing hard on for the local fucked up wolf and I want to roll around on him like he's silk and promises of wonderfulness?"

"Dude...mental image…besides, what is it with him. He have a chocolate flavoured dick or something." Jackson had muttered into his beer.

Allison, giving Jackson the look that promised pain...lots and lots of pain...looked back at Stiles. 

"I think what the wunderkind is trying to say is that we don't want you to get hurt. Right. Jackson."

Jackson sheepishly nodded his head. He was still a bit on shaky ground after the snow cone incident of this past summer, but they were willing to cut him a little slack. 

Stiles merely rolled his eyes. His crush apparently had been known right across town, and in the case of Jackson who had moved overseas, it was an internationally kept secret from him as well. That…well…stung a little. The only person who didn’t know he was in love was him…and presumably Derek.

“Uh…guys. You don’t think Derek,” he swallowed heavily. “You don’t think Derek knows do you?”  
For the first time in what was probably recorded in history, Stiles’ throat went dry and he was literally without words. Paling slightly, he actually winced at the thought of Derek having a private laugh at him over these last 5 years.

His friends all exchanged a glance and shook their heads. "He's probably the only other person as oblivious to their feelings as you are. That should make for some interesting theatre."

Rolling his eyes at Danny. "Thanks man. Always knew I could count on you for your reassurance."

Danny merely smiled his shit-eating grin, and took a long pull off his bottle of beer. "What can I say. Us humans have to stick together."

Making his way up to the bar, there was a sigh of relief that it was Isaac manning the taps. No risk of getting IDed. And as long as they kept themselves out of trouble, no need for the Sheriff's office to be called in. Not that his dad did very much to them. Something about the fact that they kept the evil at bay for a few years bought him and his friends some slack. His Dad and Derek were, not exactly getting along, but not threatening each other's freedom and/or limbs any longer. From what he could remember of his Dad visiting his Mom's family...that was about all one could usually hope for as far as the in-laws go. NOT that he was thinking it would get that far with Derek...even if it WERE totally legal for them to get married. He wasn't thinking about that at all. No wedding. No Derek in a tux. No taking Derek out of the tux and making love for hours beside a roaring fire, the hard wood pressing into him while Derek took him from...snap to it Stiles!

Giving his head a shake, he ordered whatever was the cheapest and went back over to his assorted friends.

"So...anyone know when our intrepid Beta is supposed to be back?"

"He's an Alpha again."

"Really? Last time I sassed him on Skype, the eyes...they were blue."

"Yeah. We're not that sure about the mechanics, but even though the eyes are blue, he's Alpha. Deaton thinks it could be something to do with the fact Scott's a born Alpha, and is exerting the most influence metaphysically, but Derek's Alpha once more. It works out to his benefit though. It keeps the riffraff to a minimum as he isn't someone they want to challenge. As such, he can keep things to a dull roar here while you and Scott are in Los Angeles."

Everyone kind of looked at Lydia as she went through that little diatribe. Looking up from the end of her pool cue, she shrugged. "What. I've been talking to Deaton while he helps me sort through this Banshee shit. I can happily say that it is a rare occurrence that I'm drawn to a dead body or scream outside of my control now. I can still find the dead, but it isn't that mindless wander that happened when we were Juniors in high school. If I'm shocked, then I still go wailing woman in white but that hasn't happened since my Dad so..."

Shrugging, she lined up what looked to be a fairly simple shot, and drove it home. The ricochet was what she expected, and she cleared the table with the shot. Smiling at Danny, she held out her hand.

"Next rounds on you handsome."

Groaning, he rolled his eyes, and walked over to the bar, ordering two pitchers. 

Turning her attention back to Stiles, she gave him that smile that reminded him of a shark moving in on its prey. Time was, he'd loved when that smile was turned on him, because it at least meant she noticed him. Now...well...It was a little concerning to put it mildly. 

"You never did answer Jackson's question though."

"Which was?"

"What is it about him? Was it all the sexy adventures we had in High School with him? Some sort of hero fantasy?"

Stiles chuckled. He'd had a few hero fantasies about Derek to be sure, but not the sort of thing you admitted to your friends, lest they think of you as a bit of a deviant. Turning with his back to the door, he addressed his friends.

"Nothing so mundane Lydia. I mean, yes. He looks like a model, and you've seen him barely dressed, he has got a body that's just meant to do you wrong and do you right all at the same time. He's got those gorgeous blue eyes that look right through you. Strip you naked, with promises of just a little bit of pain, and you would beg him to go just that little bit farther if it just means his hands on you that little bit longer. He looks like he would chew you up and spit you out, and you wouldn't care as long as his mouth kept working one you. He's all things dangerous about the night time, but you know he'd keep you safe because he wants to be the one to consume you."

Closing his eyes, he swayed a little bit. Jackson opened his mouth to interrupt, but Stiles was too into it to notice.

"But at the same time, I see what you all seem to miss. Underneath those cold eyes, there's a warm heart. And while he doesn't always show it, he cares about his Pack. He's so guarded against contact because he's so afraid. He is passionate, and wonderful, and dark, and scary, and so full of life that he burns so hot. I'm like a moth to the flame with him. I know that loving him might burn me up, but he's so beautiful that...maybe it's worth it."

He stood there in silence for a moment, draining the rest of his beer at the silence he was met with.

"You know you don't have to be so judgey with your silence guys. You asked. I answered."

Turning around he went to take a step to see what was keeping Danny so long. Feeling the tell tale sensation that he ran into something, he didn't even need to look up. It seems like Fate was cocking the, "Fuck with me gun," right about now.

"Hey Derek...been there long?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may do a quick re-edit for grammar when I'm at the computer.


	3. Same Time...Different Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two sides to every coin, and while it's in the air, the gravity of the situation affects them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part takes place thematically at the same time as chapter 2.

The plane landed at an ungodly hour in the morning, which as actually to his advantage given the 7+ hour drive back from Los Angeles. He’d be able to sleep a few hours before the drive back home, and be able to hopefully catch Stiles before it was too unreasonable an hour to stop in. So, after catching a few hours shut eye in the heavily tinted car, he was on the road and back in Beacon Hills just after the sun had set. The werewolf stuff definitely helped stave off the effects of jet lag. He’d come crashing down later to be sure, but it could always be worse, and more immediate.

Pulling up to the Stilinski house, he cut the engine and just sat there for a few minutes, letting his mind gather and collect what he wants to say, and steeling his nerves to face what could be the most painful rejection in history. A stray thought entered his mind that he was less nervous facing down the Alpha Pack than he is about facing a human with his heart in his hand. Well…it was truthfully located more around his throat at the moment. 

Getting out of the car, he let his body cross the lawn in the long strides he was known for, and let his mind repeat the words he was going to say over and over and over again. Raising his hand to knock in the door, he felt a smile flit across his lips for all of a half second before realizing it was the wrong Stilinski answering the door.

When he’d tossed out the prayer that someone would be home when he pulled up to the house, he probably should have been more specific.

“Sheriff Stilinski…how are you doing this evening…” The sound of disappointment was very poorly masked, but given how much he’d been building himself up for this it was almost to be expected.

Stilinski Sr. for his part was more amused than anything.

“If you’re looking for Stiles and Scott, they’re over at Scott’s place working on their homework. Or they’ve gone down to the pub. Stiles mentioned Lydia and Allison were going to be down there.” Surveying the look on Derek’s face, his mouth set in a hard line. “Maybe it would be best if you step inside before you head off looking for him though. Something tells me that we need to talk.”

This was not going the way it was meant to. Stiles was out, and now he was getting dragged into the Sheriff’s house to have what was most likely going to be the LEAST comfortable conversation in his life…beyond the killing and maiming based ones at least. 

Stepping inside, he slipped his shoes and coat off, leaving them in a rumpled heap by the front door, after having transferred his keys and wallet into his almost too tight jeans. If he had to lea out the window, it was best to have the necessities on him. He could buy shoes and a jacket. He’d rather not have to leave his car here for it to rust and rot, because he’d probably never come back again if he had to run.

Following Stiles’ father in awkward silence, he took the proffered seat in the middle of the couch, while the Sheriff went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple beer. Taking the beer, Derek resisted the urge to down it in one swallow. After a few moments, he tipped the beer back and took a sip.

“So how long have you been sleeping with my son?”

As if of its own volition, the beer shot out of Derek’s nose. Eyes watering, foam dripping down his face and mixing with his artfully coifed facial hair, he tried to ignore the sting from the bubbles. Eyes streaming, coughing, and trying to catch his breath he gasped.

“What?”

Not the most dignified response, but it at least was better than the coughing fit he was suppressing. He had a feeling that the older Stilinski had waited until just that moment to ask the question…very much like what Stiles would have done. Definitely seems to be where Stiles inherited his sense of humour.

“I think the question’s pretty obvious. You show up here, looking pretty crestfallen when I answer the door, especially after sitting in your car for almost half an hour talking to yourself and looking like you’ve been caught with your pants down when I invite you in. So either you’re sleeping with my son, or you did something to hurt my son and were worried that he’d pull a gun on you.”

“I’m not sleeping with your son Mr. Stilinski.”

“How long have you wanted to sleep with my son Mr. Hale.”

“It’s not even that. Not even just that. I mean there is that but why did I just tell you there is that. What I mean to say is that that is something I want to do but not just that and what I wanted to tell him is that I want to do that and other stuff like coffee and lunch and sunday morning crossword puzzles.”

Stilinski’s brow twitched, and for a few moments he found himself resisting the urge to shoot Derek just to put him out of his misery. Taking a seat in the chair opposite, he took a sip of his own beer. Watching Derek for a long moment, with the look that ordinarily broke a suspect, he saw there wasn’t much in Derek’s eyes in the line of intimidation. That was a bonus for Hale, but it was still a warning flag for him. Letting Derek actually take a sip of his beer without making him shoot it out of his nose (Stiles would have been so proud,) he relaxed a bit in his chair.  
 “Okay. One more time Derek, this time without the beer burning your nostrils. And forgive me for saying so bluntly, but what the hell do you actually want with my son. Small sentences. Individual words if need be.”

“Dating.”

“Stiles?”

“Yes. Dating Stiles.”

“Sleeping with Stiles?”

“Eventually.”

“Turning him into a werewolf? Don’t look so shocked that I’m asking that Derek.”

“No. I like him very much the way that he is.”

“Which is?”

“Perfect.”

The Sheriff was knocked back by the last word. There were many adjectives used to describe his son. The last one was usually accompanied by ‘pain in the ass.’ Scrubbing his face with his hand, this was a conversation he never imagined he’d be having. Ever. He knew about his son’s bisexuality. He even knew Stiles was carrying a torch for the resident brooding werewolf. And yes, he’d even thrown in on the betting pool. But he never in his life imagined he’d be having this conversation for real. 

“He’s my only son Derek. He’s the last piece I have left of his mother. He’s smart. Much smarter than me. No offence, but he’s smarter than you too. He’s a human, trying to walk with his supernatural friends, and he’s running to keep up. He’s been hurt. Too many times Derek. He’s almost been taken from me too many times. And I can’t help but feel that some of those times have been your fault.”

Derek’s eyes fell to the ground. He couldn’t argue those points. Try as he might, he just couldn’t. Nodding his head, he set his beer down and moved to get to his feet. Feeling an icy grip in his chest take hold of his heart, he felt the beginning feelings of dread take hold. The Sheriff is Stiles’ Alpha…and if the Alpha said no, then the answer was no.

“Sit down. I’m not finished yet.”

Derek dutifully did as was commanded. He remained silent, sensing that Stilinski Sr. had more to say. A tired look crossed the Sheriff’s eyes.

“I haven’t seen him as happy in his life since his Mom died, as I have with you and everyone else. He has purpose, drive, and determination. I like to think he helps, even if he fucks it up from time to time. I know I have you to thank for that as well. I love my son, and I know that he feels something for you. It could end up to be an itch that needs to be scratched, and I want you to be aware of that. You seem like a mostly nice guy and as much as I don’t want him to get hurt, I don’t want him to hurt you either.”

Derek nodded his head in understanding. His heart warmed a bit at what the older Stilinski had told him, and the fact that Stiles may actually feel something for him, was just that much better.

“That being said…you do not interfere with his studies. He graduates college. His grades do not slide. And you keep him safe.”

Breathing out a bit heavily.  
“He’s all I have left Derek. You keep him safe, and you make sure he comes home alive. Or God help me I’ll destroy you.”

Finishing his beer, he nodded mutely at the terms and conditions laid out. They were actually quite reasonable, but the part about Stilinski Sr. ending him rang a bit heavier. He had no doubt in his mind that the Sheriff could ensure that his body was never found.

“I swear on my mother’s bones that if any harm comes to Stiles, whether directly or indirectly because of me, that my life is forfeit, and yours to deal with as you feel the need. Mr. Stilinski, I swear I have nothing but the best intentions where Stiles is concerned, and will do everything I possibly can to keep him safe, and loved. And it won’t be a problem with the schooling. That’s too expensive and important to let slide.”

Giving the Sheriff half smile, he relaxed a bit when the other man smiled and nodded.

“Fine. Go ask my son out. I suppose you’ve at least earned that much.”

Finishing off the beer, Derek leapt to his feet and shook the Sheriff’s hand. Looking at the clock, he ventured to guess that the pub was the most likely place to find Stiles.

“Thank you Mr. Stilinski. Stiles is in good hands. I’m mean that is to say…”

“Just…go.”

Not needing to be told twice, he pulled on his shoes, threw on his jacket, and was on his way to the pub in less than a heart beat.

***

Taking the entire 5 minutes to cross down, he whipped into a parking spot as close as he could get to the door. Leaping out, he narrowly avoided getting hit by an oncoming car. Taking a deep breath of the cool evening air, he picked up Stiles’ scent and followed it into the building. Waiting in line, his over sensitive hearing picked up the scattered conversation and picked up the snippet of Jackson asking his rather crass question. Stifling a growl to not startle the humans in front of him, he breached into the room when he heard Stiles continuing.

“…but at the same time, I see what you all seem to miss. Underneath those cold eyes, there's a warm heart. And while he doesn't always show it, he cares about his Pack. He's so guarded against contact because he's so afraid. He is passionate, and wonderful, and dark, and scary, and so full of life that he burns so hot. I'm like a moth to the flame with him. I know that loving him might burn me up, but he's so beautiful that...maybe it's worth it."

Derek could feel the blush warming his cheeks which was no easy feat.

"You know you don't have to be so judgey with your silence guys. You asked. I answered."

With barely a moment’s notice, he felt Stiles run right into him. Stumbling back a half step, he recovered as Stiles asked the question.

"Hey Derek...been there long?"


	4. You Mean To Say...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a moment of discomfort is worth it if the reward is greater than the inconvenience.

They’d found a quiet corner to sequester themselves away, clearly having a lot to discuss. Normally never at a loss for words, Stiles sat there picking at the coaster his pint of beer was sitting on. Derek was folding and refolding the napkin, shyly looking up at Stiles through his eyelashes before going back to folding and refolding his napkin.

 

“So…you like stuff?” Stiles cringed inwardly. That was not how he intended to start this off, but really, the ball was in Derek’s court. Thanks to his fancy werewolf hearing, he’d heard every word Stiles had said about what attracted him to Derek. 

 

Derek blushed. It was an honest to goodness blush that reached the tips of his ears. Opening his mouth in a false start, he sighed. Then he growled. Then he whimpered…and honest to god whimper at that. He scowled for a half a second, and took a deep breath.

 

“I want to wrap myself up in you like you’re my favourite blanket and forget the world exists and I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

 

Blinking in total and utter shock, that wasn’t quite where that sentence was meant to go. He was going to be suave. He was going to be cool. He was at the very least not going to confess and gush it all out in one sentence. But, the wolf was out of the woods so to speak, and there was no pulling it back to the forest now. 

 

Listening to Stiles’ heartbeat, he held a secret smile that it had increased in tempo, and with a subtle twitch of the nostrils, he could smell Stiles’ intrigue at the very least. Setting the napkin aside, he hesitantly reached out and touch the human’s hand. It felt cool in his much warmer touch, but that was to be expected. His body temperature was a degree or so warmer than human norm. Smiling a bit as Stiles slowly turned his hand over in Derek’s so they were able to intertwine their fingers, Derek felt a bit more confidence return to him.

 

“So what I meant to say was…it’s mutual. The draw…the attraction…the…everything. I stopped at your house and you Dad invited me in. And I think I know where you got your sense of humour from. He made me shoot a beer out of my nose. That shit burns.”

 

Stiles chuckled a bit at the mental imagery. 

 

“And what did my Father say that was so amusing…or shocking?”

 

See…conversation. They were having conversation. They could do this.

 

“He asked how long we’d been fucking.”

 

This time it was Stiles’ turn to shoot the beer out of his nose.

 

“Or maybe he said sleeping together. It’s a muddle.”

 

He gave Stiles his shit eating grin that…upon further examination of Stiles’ reaction, would be what would get him out of trouble during the duration of their relationship. While Stiles wiped down his face, he continued.

 

“I got as close to his permission to ask you out as I think I’m ever going to get, and while I know that normally the threat of bodily harm is usually empty, I can’t help feel that he wasn’t really joking when he told me he’d end me. So, I’m laying it out for you, so that you can make the decision. I’m dangerous to be around. Things get bloody, and tend to die around me. You know that almost better than most. I swear, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, and keep my promise to your Dad that I will make sure you make it home. I want to give this a try…and honest try. Not just time with you for your body, but I want to be with You. Shit…I had this planned out so much better in my head. I spent the flight from London to LA, and the drive up rehearsing this and now seeing you and your green eyes I just can’t seem to hold  a thought when I’d rather be holding you instead.”

 

He growled slightly in frustration with himself. He wasn’t normally this kind of brooding romantic. He wasn’t romantic at all. He was a bad ass. Certified bad ass. The frustration was causing him to growl in the most animalistic way. Stiles gave Derek’s hand a firm squeeze to draw is attention back. The growl faded out and shifted to a soft whine of uncertainty. His wolf saw the person across the table like a mate, not just a human, and the uncertainty was getting to him.

 

In a tone of voice which was slightly out of character for Stiles, he said with a gentle reassurance.

 

“I know what your life entails. I’ve been around it since High School, and I’m still standing. Despite what everyone may think of me, I’m not just a fluff ball who doesn’t pay attention. I pay more attention than most. I want you, and not just because of the sexy werewolf powers or the washboard abs or what I’m sure is a talented and teasing tongue. I want to know what it’s like waking up wrapped up with someone who doesn’t give a shit that I’m only human, or not a supernatural. You look at me like I’m…annoying. And funny. And smart. And stupid. You don’t judge me for what I’m not…well…not any more at any rate. So what the hell Mr. Hale. Do you want to go steady?”

 

Leaning back, Stiles grin broke out wide across his face. Leaning across the table, Derek grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into to a toe curling kiss. Reluctant to break the contact, they separated, both looking absolutely stunned.

 

“But I don’t fuck on the first date.”

 

Derek’s face split into a shocked smile and it turned into an incredulous laugh.

 

In a voice that was perhaps a bit more serious than warranted, but he wanted his meaning to carry over, Derek said, “I’ve waited this long, and while I want to do things that would make the werewolves listening in on us blush and/or wince, I want to wait because I want it to mean something. You’re someone to be treasured Stiles. You aren’t a flavour of the week.”

 

Stiles turned a bit crimson at that, feeling a bit warm and fuzzy about the middle. He was someone to be treasured. That filled him with a giddy energy.

 

“But that thing you said about wrapping yourself up in me like a blanket?”

 

Derek got to his feet, and pulled Stiles to his feet. Pulling the lanky man closer, he slipped his arms up the back of Stiles shirt, holding him…just holding him, and ignoring what was pressing into his thigh. There was barely an inch height difference between them. Rubbing the tip of his nose across Stiles, he pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips.

 

“Laying with you like this for hours until we fall asleep. Close contact, so I can feel your skin against mine, and not giving in to our more base instincts…difficult though that may be.”

 

Stiles gulped heavily, not used to being in such a public place with this sort of display of affection. Derek did remember they were in a pub…right? Nodding his head eagerly, he said with a choked whisper.

 

“Yeah…I think,” he gulped, “I think I can live with being your blanket.”

 

Derek closed his eyes, and took in Stiles’ scent, reluctantly exhaling to let the breath with his intended’s smell out of his body.

 

“Merry Christmas Stiles.”

 

“Merry Christmas Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww. Things are going so well. It's like nothing could possibly go wrong...
> 
> Just a quick little addition. The next couple chapters may be a little slower coming. I'm up to my neck in some research for them so there could be some delay.


	5. Moving Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True to his word, Derek want to protect Stiles, and make sure he survives this relationship. Stiles, ever the trickster, has a card up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit of sex towards the end. Just a friendly warning.

He had promised Sheriff Stilinski that he would keep Stiles safe from harm, and make sure he made it back home alive. Stiles had started taking on the scent of the Pack by sheer merit of the fact that they hadn’t spent more than 6 hours apart since their confession in the Pub. While it made his mouth water and pieces of him stir like he was a teenager again at the mingling of their scents, the stark reality was that it made Stiles more of a target than he already was. The only thing holding back the fact they didn’t smell more like each other was the fact they had yet to have sex. They’d slept together for sure, but it was (reasonably) chaste. Frustrating, and it led to some long cold showers but they’d agreed to the romantic gesture of waiting for the right time. It turns out they were both terrible romantics.   
 Walking through the living room at the Hale House, all the furniture had been moved out of the room, the walls had cushioning hung up, giving it a “padded room” feel, and the hard wood had been covered over using gymnastic mats. It was a sparring room to put it plainly. 

Derek stood in the room, barefoot, wearing his trademark black tank top, and a pair of work out pants. Stiles, to be difficult, was wearing a bright orange tie dyed tank top with, as luck would have it, pink tie dyed work out pants. Scott, Isaac and Allison were all dressed in varying shades of grey. They’d stretched, and run, and run and stretched. They all knew that Stiles could run. He was quite impressive in that regard. The years of lacrosse and running for his life had helped shape him to an excellent long distance runner. While he was no slouch physically, at least for a human, Stiles had very few practical fighting skills, and the ones he did have barely were usable again a human, let alone a werewolf trying to take out an Alpha’s mate…not that Derek was thinking that far down the road. What with Stiles and him on the couch with a few kids running around, sitting by the firelight, telling stories about the bad old days of Beacon Hills, curled up in each others arms…nope. He wasn’t picking out matching His and His katanas at all.

“Stiles. I made a promise to your Dad that I’d keep you alive. Given that you get to leave Beacon Hills in about 10 days back to L.A., we don’t have that much time to start this. Scott, what do you smell when you smell Stiles?”

Scott at least had the decency to look a little sheepish when he answered.

“I smell Stiles, but there’s an undertone of werewolf there. Usually close contact does that.”

“Dude. We live together. Do I smell like Scott? Please tell me I don’t smell like Scott.”

“You don’t. There isn’t the…intimate levels of contact…that create that kind of scent transfer.”

“DUDE! You haven’t even had the decency to at least get off in me and I’m starting to smell like you from the inside? That’s just cold man. Painting a target on my back and not even making an honest man out of me.”

Allison stifled a laugh, and failed miserably at the sight of the glare that Derek was giving Stiles. Scott all but howled in laughter, and Isaac had to leave the room for a minute. After everyone had settled down, and Derek was no longer warring with the thought of either killing Stiles, killing himself, or mounting Stiles while everyone watched, he just blinked slowly and tried to pick up the train of thought.

“Isaac. What do you smell when you smell Stiles?”

Isaac shifted uncomfortably.  
 “You.”

“And…” he prompted, remembering the conversation they’d had the other day.

“A challenge. He smells human, but there’s the unmistakable scent of an Alpha male on him. Anyone wanting to move up in the world would smell him, and take him out, to bait you into attacking.”

Derek let the seriousness of the situation sink in. This exercise was practical, and it needed doing, but it also was deadly serious. Until now, he’d never had a weakness. None of his lovers ever started to smell like him. This human, whom he had never penetrated, nor been penetrated by (he was equal opportunity after all) was smelling like him from deep on the inside. That also meant that he was carrying some of Stiles’ scent, which meant someone with a good nose to hunt down Stiles.

“The reality is that at the moment, you’re no match for a werewolf, and I care for you far too much to let you get hurt if I can help. Humans…no offence Allison, aren’t naturally equipped to take us on. You could punch me as hard as you possibly could, and I’d barely flinch. Hunters, and ex Hunters…”

Allison acknowledged that Derek made the distinction, even if only for her benefit.

“…have worked for years to increase their reflexes. A lot of selective breeding went into it too. They are bred to hunt us. A lot of their skill is learned over time. Closely guarded secrets as well. Luckily Allison and her Dad have broken with tradition. Between now and when you go back to school, we’re all meeting here and training. We’ve all gotten a bit lazy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Allison said with a heavy handed dose of sarcasm. She was almost the worst one for slacking on training. Next to Scott of course.

Rolling his eyes, he continued on with a smile. “Lucky for you we all agreed that your unarmed hand to hand sucks and likely won’t be much help if you get cornered. So we are arming you.”

Grabbing what looked like two miniature black flashlights, Derek held them and twitched both of his hands. The batons extended about two feet and looked like they were made out of a black metal. They weren’t entirely rigid, but made a nice whipping sound as Derek spun them in the air.

“Coated silver extendable baton. Questionably legal, but light weight and portable. Designed to go in the pocket, or fasten to wrist sheaths for easy access. Yes. We got the wrist sheaths too. And spares. The silver will inflict additional damage on your assailant if it’s a wolf. If it’s a Human, it hurts like a fucker regardless.”

Handing them over to Stiles, there was definitely a part of him that was afraid of the fact they were arming the somewhat spastic human. He kept telling himself that it was for Stiles’ safety.

Stiles of his part collapsed the batons, and then extend them. Twitching one of his hands slightly the wrong way, he whipped himself in the upper thigh. Hopping around, swearing like a sailor, he pulled his work out pants down, revealing bright red Hawaiian print boxer briefs, and a bright red welt.

“Mother fucker! That stings.”

Derek pinched his brow. This human was going to be the death of him. He knew it. He didn’t care. But he knew it. 

“That is also why you’re going to be using the bamboo ones in practise. At least Scott, Isaac and I will heal.”

Stiles grumbled as he pulled up his pants. Setting the obviously dangerous weapons down, he took the practise ones. They were about the same weight and balance as the more spiffy metal ones, but they seemed a bit less dangerous. A stupid move and a matching welt on the other leg, he decided to stand still while they got into the basic of it. 

“If you’re done trying to kill yourself?”

Stiles nodded. Allison, Scott and Isaac stood out of the range of Stiles and his weapons.

“Remember. You will always have to reach for your weapon.”

Opening his hands, his claws had extended. Sharp and cruel nails tipped each of his fingers and thumbs. 

“I always have mine.”

Circling Stiles like he was stalking his prey, a predatory gleam in his eyes appeared. Stiles’ mouth went very dry all of a sudden. Raising one of the batons slightly, he found himself sprawled out at Derek’s feet. He was quite grateful for the matts. Looking behind him, he saw Allison straightening up from sweeping his feet out under him. Scott, Isaac and Allison were circling him. Allison armed with what looked like wooden dirks. Scott and Isaac’s claws were also extended. Rolling to his feet, he felt very put on the spot.

“Shouldn’t we…I don’t know…maybe give me a run down on how to use these?”

He gave a nervous laugh, but the look of absolute seriousness in his friends’, and lover’s faces told him he wasn’t going to be joking out of this one. 

Seeing the movement in the corner of his eye, he ducked under the swipe from Isaac’s claws, feeling the wind across his scalp. Bringing up one of the batons to deflect the next swipe, he succeeded in knocking Isaac back, but was once again laid out, this time from a blow to the stomach. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but just enough to knock him off balance. Turning his head to see Derek's grim expression, he ducked under Allison's arching foot, swiping out the planted leg with the batons and rolling out of the way of Scott's attack. Taking a kick to the back of the knees, he fell to the ground and rolled to the wall, losing one of the batons in the process. Getting shakily to his feet, his eyes remained locked on Derek's, and a little smile curled up the corner of his lip. 

"There's something Deaton told me back in the day. That time that I had to circle the club? Something about the fact that if you have belief in something, anything's possible. Or something to that effect."

Reaching into his pants, he pulls out what looks like a leather satchel. Ducking underneath Derek's swinging fist, he cracked his boyfriend across the jaw, twisting out of the way. Reaching into the bag, he kept his fist tight around the contents, inching back towards the corner, drawing the wolves to him, leaving Allison to bring up the rear. 

Throwing his fist up, he released the contents with his eyes half closed. The black ring of mountain ash fell and circled the werewolves, catching them in a glowing arch, with no-way out. Watching the three of them test their bounds, he took a devastating left hook from Allison, which left him dazed on the ground. Moaning slightly, he felt his vision swim as he heard a panicked call from Derek.

"Stiles! Are you okay? Allison, you could have really hurt him. Let us out..."

He was whimpering like a puppy caught on the wrong side of the fence. Allison dragged her foot across the line, admittedly impressed with the fact that even in sparring clothes, Stiles had the presence of mind to keep a pouch of mountain ash with him. While it was only really useful against werewolves, it provided a limited defence against other supernaturals as well. Allison was all but thrown out of the way by Derek who descended on Stiles, checking for a concussion.

"Practise is done for today. We'll do this again tomorrow."

The other three slipped out after gathering their things, hollering a cheerful good by while the besotted Alpha fussed over Stiles who had, by his own recollection, been hit much harder by much smaller females and lived.

"I'm sorry Stiles. But that was fast thinking with the mountain ash. I'm proud. Come on, let's get you on the couch."

Scooping up Stiles under the arms, the younger man fakes a swoon, and a really bad southern accent. "Why Mr. Hale, I do declare. What kind of lady do you take me for?"

If Stiles was joking around already, he couldn't be too bad. "I've never accused you of being a lady."

"No, a lady know when to keep her legs closed."

Derek blushed a furious shade of red at that thought. 

"Lets see those welts Stiles. Those could get a lot worse if I don't take care of them."

This time it was Stiles' turn to blush. They'd seen each other in various states of undress before, sleeping all but naked together. But there was something so naked...so vulnerable...about being undressed and injured. Hesitating, Derek reached out with gentle hands.

"It's okay. I can help."

Slowly, reverently, Derek slipped the atrociously coloured sweat pants off Stiles' legs. The smell of sweat and heat caused an involuntary growl in the back of his throat. It was a growl full of promise, and parts of Stiles responded in kind.

Tracing a thumb over the welt on Stiles left leg, the sting almost disappeared instantly, the raised flesh still puckered and red. 

Looking at Stiles with eyes that were almost pupil-black, he pressed his palm down on the welt. With a hiss and a cry, the flesh burned for a moment, and was left unblemished. Bending over, Derek traced his tongue across the fading scar, inhaling the scent of Stiles' desire. Kissing the tender flesh inside his thighs, Derek looked at the other welt.

"Tell me to stop."

"I can't."

"Tell me to stop."

"I won't."

"Tell me I can."

"Please...I need you."

With that, Derek opened his mouth and let his tongue drag across the raw flesh, feeling it knit under his tender ministrations. Kissing his way up and across Stiles boxer briefs, he broke contact long enough to remove the offending (and offensively coloured) garment. With a flourish, he ripped Stiles' shirt off, leaving the pale man in his glory on the couch. 

Derek's eyes took in every inch of Stiles' flesh, memorizing every freckle, every mole, every perfect imperfection. Blushing all the way down his chest, Stiles moved to cover himself, feeling so much more than nude. He felt utterly naked. There were no quips. No jokes. Nothing to cover himself in. Derek, with his calloused hands that were deceptively gentle when they needed to be, moved Stiles' hands so he could see it all.

"Tell me to stop."

"I won't."

With no further words, he captured Stiles lips with his own, finger tips dancing along Stiles sides until he couldn't reach any further. Drawing his hands up, this time running along the inside of Stiles' leg, he gently cupped Stiles' sex, massaging it slowly in a hand that was more than human warm. Trailing kisses down Stiles neck and chest, he worked Stiles, using the ample pre-cum he was leaking, desperate for release. Bringing his free hand up underneath Stiles' arching back, he gently teased Stiles' tip with the tip of his tongue.

"Please...I can't hold out much longer. I've been waiting for this. For you. Only for you."

Needing no further urging, Derek brushed the stubble of his chin across the tip before swallowing his lover in one smooth motion. Taking his time, and using a little of his strength, he pinned Stiles down to the couch to keep his thrusts to a minimum. Using his thumb to massage against Stiles' entrance, that proved to be the young human's undoing. With a warning cry, Stiles released, hollering loud enough that Derek thanked the gods looking down at him that he didn't have any nearby neighbours. 

Swallowing every drop of Stiles' release, he didn't release his lover's cock immediately. Bathing it clean with his tongue, he kept his lips sealed as Stiles went soft in his mouth. That was a treat he had been looking forward to. A sign of a job well done. 

Looking up at Stiles who was twitching just slightly as a result of his climax, he released Stiles with a satisfied smile, lips swollen from use. Seeing Stiles biting his bottom lip.

Leaning up and pressing a kiss to Stiles lips, he smiled as his lover purred slightly at tasting himself on Derek's lips. 

"Tell me you don't need me." The words slipped from his lips like a frightened whisper. The Alpha was afraid.

"I love you."

There was a silence, punctuated only be the sound of two heart beats moving to beat as one.

"I love you too."

Reaching on the back of the sofa, he pulled a blanket down to wrap around themselves. Derek brushed away Stiles seeking hands.

"Not tonight. I just want to hold you."

Without another word, Stiles drifted off to sleep, secure in the arms of someone he loved.


	6. Interlude #1 - Darkness Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the quiet there is a restless heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short posting. Getting ready for company to come visit for a week or so. Posting will be a little...sporadic...until we have the house back. Sorry. I'm eager to get into it too.

At the strike of midnight, while the ball was dropping, and the corks were popping, a lone figure entered into down through the wild entanglement that had been so quiet for so long. While it would never be said the residents were complacent, they’d allowed themselves to enjoy the peace in the woods after the defeat of Deucalion. The werewolf pack had even decreased its patrols in the intervening years. While that was a good sign for the fortunes of the town, it was a bad thing for those who battled the things that went bump in the night.

As the stranger walked into town, they reigned in their power, to mask their approach. The Banshee was still here, and the Wolves were sensitive to their environment. It would do her no good to be caught, especially before she was able to find the sacrifice to appease that side of her. 

Through several generations, the power had been diluted, but when one was born of the gods, one didn't really care. Her abilities were still more than enough to raze the town of Beacon Hills to the ground. She had destroyed those civilizations that failed to offer the appropriate sacrifices to her forefather, and if this place didn't yield a sufficient soul to be sacrificed at her altar, it would be just another in a long list of mysterious disappearances.

Letting the darkness fall on her skin, she let it clothe her, pulling it like a shroud around her lightly tanned skin. Raven black hair fell poker straight down her back, and chocolate brown eyes surveyed the land. 

Lifting her nose into the air, she took a sniff and smiled a small smile.

"Found you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all see where this is going.


	7. Understandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With all parties concerned, it's best to have some level of understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting the ramp up... ;-)

Climaxing with a shuddering gasp, Derek slowly opened his eyes as his motions in Stiles slowed. Kissing Stiles on his eyelids, nose then finally lips, he pulled out of his lover, rolled over, and pulled Stiles down to rest on him like a blanket, not caring about the squelching as Stiles’ cum was smeared between them. Tracing his finger tips down Stiles’ back, resting them just above the other man’s ass, he smiled deliriously. Nuzzling slightly, he sighed a lazy sated sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Stiles for his part took a few moments to formulate words, unable to trust his voice. For the last three days, he’d barely spent any time out of bed, had never bothered getting dressed, and all their meals were suspiciously easy and convenient to eat without need for cutlery. When asked, Derek had only muttered something about making up for lost time before lowering himself onto Stiles waiting cock. Another pleasant surprise…Derek liked to receive equally as much as he liked to give. 

“Yeah. Just…It’s hard to believe I have to head back tomorrow.”

Derek’s eyes clouded a bit. It wasn’t like he couldn’t drive down to L.A. and visit. And Stilinski was coming back for his reading week in February. But after the last few days, alternating between love making and just remaining curled up together, he found himself a little reluctant to let his lover leave. He knew that was the wolf part of him. The human part of him luckily helped temper THAT unattractive quality. He wanted Stiles to have a life separate of him, and he knew he needed some of his own freedom. But on the other hand…

“You’re thinking too much Derek. No grumpy wolf.”

Stiles pressed a kiss to his temple and de-railed that thought pretty quickly.

“I hate when you call me that,” he said without any heat to it at all. Truth was he loved every stupid nickname Stiles came up with, but he wasn’t every going to tell him that. Too much risk that he’d stop.

“Dad’s invited us to dinner tonight. Probably not a bad idea to go see him seeing as I haven’t been home for a few days. Not that there was any need for clothing.”

“Just gets in the way.”

“Is this ‘Naked Stiles’ thing likely to continue when I come back for the summer?”

Derek’s look went glassy and distant, a small smile crossing his face, and parts of him twitching in anticipation. Stiles shook his head and said with a smile.

“You’re picturing me naked in a meadow right now aren’t you.”

Derek gave a happy little growl and nodded.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles slid out of bed, surveying the damage. So far Derek had clawed the headboard to kindling, Stiles punched a hole in the drywall, there was enough bodily fluids across the bedroom that it would make a forensic tech cry if they had to turn on the black light. There were empty tubes of lube, empty boxes of condoms, and the product of both almost overflowing the garbage can. There was a stack of towels from the numerous showers they’d both had, especially once they reached the point of realization they were both clean, and Derek was impossible to infect. Stiles, but nature of his volunteer work, had to have regular screening, so he was clear. The lack of condom necessitated the increased showers though.

Moving into the other room, he started the shower.

“Dude…are you coming?”

Derek sprang from the bed, half hard before he reached the bathroom.

“Not yet…”

***

It was impossible to be late when you were the one cooking. At least, that’s what Stiles told himself. Moving around his father’s kitchen, his mouth was moving a mile a minute while his Dad and Derek struggled to keep up with the flow of thoughts spewing out of his mouth.

“Anyway. The frat house didn’t even have a clue that beneath them was the crypt of the descendant of one of the creatures that had been produced by the mixing of angel and human way back in the day. So Scott circled around it all scary-wolf and Tracy, one of the Harpies we’d met in our intro Spanish class in first year was trying to come at it from up above, when out of no where campus security busted in on the scene, and never mind the flying Harpy, but the guy who makes me look like a beefcake comes screaming at me for running an unsanctioned LARP on school grounds. He’s got a ticket pad out and is just screaming at me. Tracy gets knocked out of the air, plowing into Scott, and almost into traffic. Neal and Nancy, two of the witches that live on our floor try and circle it in mountain ash and salt, and only manage to piss it off. Scott gets back on his feet, takes out the demi-demon, Tracy disappears its soul back to hell, Neal and Nancy get a migraine for their efforts…and I’m stuck with a $75 ticket.”

His Dad and Derek merely blink and exchange a look with each other. Concern clearly telegraphed between the elder Stilinski and Derek. They’d been so wrapped up in Stiles’ story they hadn’t even paid attention to what Stiles was making them until it was plated.

“Tofu stir fry with extra greens. No red meat Dad.”

Looking at Derek.

“You have to make sure he doesn’t cheat on the red meat thing while I’m gone. Once a week, and that’s it. If you don’t…I won’t be as entertaining as I have been the last couple days the next time I’m here.”

Derek merely paled a little. That…that threat was almost inhuman. It had to go against the Geneva convention in some form. Nodding his head, he cast an apologetic wince at he elder Stilinski…who didn’t really look all that concerned. Derek felt like he was about to get caught in the middle of something. Looking at what was on his plate, he sniffed it, and gave it a cautious look. Looking at the elder Stilinski, he shook his head while Stiles’ back was turned. This was a crime on a plate. 

Following the two into the dining room, Derek sat beside Stiles, blushing slightly when Stiles thigh rubbed up against his. Waiting for the prompt to start eating by waiting if they said a prayer or anything, he tossed a silent one up to his mother that the tofu wouldn’t kill him. Wolf cannot live on tofu alone. Taking a sip of his beer, he tucked into the meal. It wasn’t…bad. But it wasn’t food. Sharing a silent look with Stiles’ father, there were benefits of Stiles going away for 6 weeks.

“This is…interesting…”

Derek gulped down his mouthful. Stiles gave him a broad smile, oblivious to the fact that Derek pretty much was hating every bite. Stiles dad had the same neutral look on his face. Waiting until the Sheriff lifted his beer to his lips, Derek asked innocently.

“So. How long have you been sleeping with Scott’s Mom?”

Hunching in on himself, the Sheriff brought a cloth to his nose, choking and gagging on the beer that was now dripping down his chin.

Stiles threw his head back and howled in laughter. Clapping Derek on the back, he looked askance at his Dad.

“What?!? I’m not…I didn’t…what was that for.”

Derek merely smiled.

“Revenge. But you HAVE been seen lighting up whenever she’s around.”

Stiles chuckled.

“Come on Dad. Who else can you have the supernatural talk with and commiserate with about all the wackiness that’s going on around here. And it’s not exactly like you haven’t thought about it.”

The Sheriff cast a warning look at his son, who wisely dropped the matter.

“So. What time are you planning on leaving tomorrow. You know it’s a 7 hour drive and the roads are going to be hell this time of year.”

The whiplash at the sudden change of direction caught Derek unaware, and his eyes darkened a bit thinking of what tomorrow night was going to consist of without having his favourite sleeping item with him.

“Probably around noon. Scott’s got breakfast with his Mom and is helping Deaton put up the new cages at the vet office. Lydia’s stopping by tonight before she catches the red eye out and Jackson’s already left.”

Derek, without thinking, reached out and took Stiles’ hand in his, pressed a kiss to the knuckles, and rubbed the back of his partner’s hand against his cheek, lost in thought with some kind of instinctive drive behind it.

The vacant look of loss on Derek’s face caught the Sheriff by surprise. Having arrested the other man for murder at least twice in recent history, the abject terror of loss triggered a dormant memory of his own.

“I’d like Stiles to stay here tonight, but you’re more than welcome to join him. I think his bed is big enough for two just…don’t keep me awake?”

Derek relaxed a little bit, though Stiles was sitting there expecting the other shoe to drop. Looking between his father and his lover, it took him a moment or two to actually figure out what had just happened. Giving Derek’s hand a reassuring squeeze, he returned the kiss to the knuckles, and rubbed the back of Derek’s hand across his cheek, breathing in the earthy undertone of the werewolf’s skin.

“Thanks Dad. You know. You two really need to keep an eye on each other while I’m gone. I’m not just gonna trust just anyone with that.”

There was an unexpected serious tone to what he had to say, and the atmosphere shifted slightly. Getting up from the table, Stiles and Derek cleared the plates and brought out the coffee and cake for dessert. There was a subdued energy, but it was a comfortable one. 

“Any plans for what you’re going to do while Stiles isn’t here taking up your hours in your day?”

The tone of the Sheriff’s question was simple and not at all unkind. He’d been worried, given the age difference between Stiles and Derek, and given their history, he’d honestly expected things to have fallen apart right now. He was genuinely glad that, as of right now, it was unfounded.

Derek thought it over for a few minutes. He didn’t work, though he did have his bachelor’s degree in, of all things, English Literature and History. He had inherited a fairly decent chunk of change when he lost his family, though he rarely touched on the principle amount, living off the interest comfortably enough. 

“I’m actually thinking about going back to school to work on my masters degree. May head down to San Francisco and audit a few classes there to see where I want to go with it. Teachers College maybe?”

Taking a sip of his coffee, he felt Stiles shocked stare.

“What? I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I AM college educated Stiles. Double major English Lit. and History, minor in Behavioural Psych.”

“No, that just means that you could come down to L.A. in the fall and we could get an apartment. Just you and me.”

Clearing his throat, he looked over at his Dad who was hiding the fact he looked like he wanted to have a coronary.

“And Scott of course. You know. The three of us. Living in an apartment. Working on school…stuff.”

The Sheriff didn’t really buy the shift for a second, but McCall would probably jump at the chance to get out of the Dorms. He and Stiles were rooming together, but the crush of humanity and the stupidity was getting to him. At least, that’s what Melissa had said when they went for their weekly Thursday coffee. 

Derek, for his part, looked a bit happy at the thought of sharing a living space with Stiles. The last few years of the bickering, the arguing, the making up, and the full out fighting they had done was what most couples did. They just hadn’t been officially dating by then. Sighing a resigned sigh, the Sheriff finally understood something.

“Shit. You two have been dating for the last few years and didn’t even know it.”

That realization seemed to come out of nowhere, but Stiles just kind of chuckled and nodded, tracing his thumb against Derek’s hand. Derek had the decency to blush a little bit, but he nodded as well. That had come up in conversation two days ago, when they both had a panic attack about falling into bed together too quickly, and how fast they had said the “I love you.” That was about the conclusion they came to. So of course Derek called Stiles an oblivious idiot, and Stiles retaliated by calling Derek Stupid-Wolf. They bickered at each other, but a fast and furious blow job from Derek left Stiles unable to form the words to keep the bickering going.

Stiles got up to go to the kitchen, indicating that he didn’t need Derek’s help, he was just grabbing the coffee carafe for refills. With a dreamy look on his face, Derek couldn’t help but say.  
 “I’m going to marry him someday.”

The Sheriff, not knowing what possessed him, reached out and clasped Derek’s forearm in an almost fatherly way.

“If you’re going to be my son in law, you’re going to have to stop calling me Sheriff.”

Derek gave the elder Stilinski a look of shock. Had he just…pretty much said he was okay with this becoming permanent?

“What should I call you then?”

“Most people call me John.”

Derek merely grinned and nodded. Opening his mouth to say something, he cut himself off as Stiles came back into the room. Holding the coffee pot, Stiles looked between John and Derek, and sensed he may have missed something.

“What did I miss?”

The other two men looked at each other, and his father piped up.

“Nothing major. Just…coming to an understanding is all. I’m going to leave the rest of the clean up to you two. I have the early shift, but I’ll be back to say goodbye.”

Getting up from the table, he gave Derek a squeeze on the shoulder, and his son a hug good night. Stiles curious glance followed his Dad up the stairs, and led back to Derek.

“What was that about?”

“You know Stiles. For someone so smart…you can sure be oblivious.”

Stiles merely shrugged his shoulders and nodded. Setting down the coffee, he leaned over and gave Derek a kiss.

“I can live with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. The next couple of chapters will likely be spaced out as I have company staying with me who I see maybe once a year if I'm lucky. Don't worry, I still have plenty more story to tell and I have been working on it.


	8. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have to look after those you love.

"Deaton, slow down. What do you mean the clinic was broken into. Where any of the animals hurt? Just some files taken. That doesn't sound too ba...oh. Those files. That...that is a problem. No. No. Okay, no, I'll swing by the Hale place and see if Derek knows anything. Just, try and inventory what they took so we know who to alert, okay. Yeah. I'll be down in a bit. Have to pick up the flea treatment for the dogs anyway. Not a problem. Alright. Bye."

The Sheriff set down the receiver of his phone with a heavy thud. Someone had broken into two of the churches, the high school, and now Deaton's office. Files were going missing, mostly of students and youths who had grown up in the area. Those were troubling enough. The fact that the Druid's office was broken into, and it wasn't the vet files that were missing was disturbing. Deaton kept files on everyone with supernatural tendencies and connections. It was part of his job to keep the balance of things, and also keep the unprepared public oblivious to the fact that the things that go bump in the night may in fact actually be their neighbour's child just getting control of their abilities. 

From the law enforcement side of things, he shared information with Deaton and vice versa. Melissa McCall kept her eyes and ears open at the hospital for any unusual medical cases, to keep them out of the public view. It was a balancing act to be sure, but it had helped maintain the Beacon Hills balance after the majority of the Hale/McCall Pack had gone off to college.

Grabbing the keys to the cruiser, he fired off a message to Melissa that he'd be swinging by and picking her up. The clinic records had been ransacked three days before Scott and Stiles had come back for reading week, and she was almost done the inventory of who was missing from the files, and also which files had been purged or transferred to other medical centres because the owners had relocated for school, work, or a bit more permanently to Beacon Cemetery. Hopefully she had the inventory complete, or near enough, so this wouldn't be a wasted meeting. 

Taking a quick moment to smooth out his hair, he allowed himself the idle thought that he should get a hair cut. You know, to stay looking professional of course. 

Driving the three blocks to the clinic, he smiled when he saw Melissa waiting outside, dressed in her multicoloured scrubs with the cartoon dinosaur print. That usually meant she was in paediatrics, and if all was going well, she’d likely be in a good mood. She had papers folded and stuffed in her pockets, so she’d found something. If he wasn’t mistaken, he saw her give his car a quick smile when she thought he couldn’t see. She did that a lot. If he were being honest, so did he.

Hitting the unlock button on the door, Melissa was in with her seatbelt buckled in a heartbeat.

“Hey Sheriff. Thanks for picking me up. Car’s giving me trouble again.”

“You should really get that checked out Ms. McCall.”

“And whose going to pay for it?”

Snorting, “You could always bring it and a pizza over to my place and I can take a look at it. Cheaper than any garage, and I’m not too bad with my hands under the hood.”

Seemingly oblivious to what he’d said, she merely nodded her head. “Fine. Tonight after work, I’ll grab something to eat and meet you at your place. 8-ish?”

“It’s a date.”

Nodding her head one final time, they drove in a companionable silence on their way to the vet’s office. Pulling in to the staff parking around back, they stopped the car in Scott’s usual parking place, which was of course vacant as he was still in classes for a few more weeks. 

Hopping out, they entered the building, and took in the extent of the damage. There were a lot of files strewn about, but the volume of paper looked like someone had only thrown the papers around the room, and didn’t exactly point to robbery. But, Deaton wasn’t really known for bullshitting when it came to important matters such as this, so they were inclined to believe him when he said that there were important papers that had gone missing.

Derek was already there, saving John a trip out to the Hale House. There was a grim look on his face, having spoken to Deaton already. He didn’t know about the robberies at the hospital, clinic, or schools yet, but that would probably give him more to worry about. 

Giving Derek a small smile, and a genial nod, the wolf returned the gesture. They’d actually been able to get along for the entire week Derek had spent at the Stilinski’s. He knew full well what Stiles and Derek were up to when he was at work, but he could play stupid if it meant more time with his son. The fact that his son was happy…just a bonus. 

“Okay Derek. Why do you look so grim.” Addressing Deaton. “What’s gone missing?”

Derek rolled his shoulders, and with that tell John knew that Derek was pretty tightly wound. He had no doubt his son’s name would grace this conversation.

Deaton spoke up, “My files on Scott, Lydia, Stiles, Derek and Danny have all gone missing. There’s nothing strewn about in here, and nothing misfiled. Those 5 are just gone. If it were Hunters, I’d have expected more of the werewolves files to be gone, and Allison Argent’s would have been taken as well. Two humans, a banshee and two werewolves are an odd group to pick up. Who else has gone missing?”

The Sheriff pulled out his little note pad and flipped through it to find his list of names, “Among others, we’re missing Jackson, Scott, Derek, Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Cora, Peter, myself, Melissa, yours, and half the class that the boys graduated with. The hospital?”

Melissa sighed a heavy sigh. “All of the above. Same goes with the school. Some sick bastards is targeting our kids and by the looks of things they’re narrowing it down.”

Wrapping her arms around her midsection, she played idly with the charm on the chain around her neck. Sighing in frustration, she looked at John, and then again at Deaton.

“Argent tell you anything?”  
“He hasn’t heard anything that we don’t already know. It’s disconcerting to say the least. I’ve even reached out to some of my fellow Emissaries, and they haven’t heard anything either. Whatever is going on is beyond anything we’ve heard of before.”

If it were possible for Derek to scowl any deeper, he would have.

“So all we know definitively is that we’re in danger, and this time it seems pretty specific. With the selected group that we’re looking at, is it another Darach?”

Melissa and John shifted uncomfortably at that. They came way too close to dying when the last one came to call. 

Deaton, thankfully, should his head in the negative. “No Darachs this time thank god. We’d already be seeing the sacrifices turning up. But whatever it is…” he lead the way to the security monitor. Rewinding it through to the night before, he let it play through. The door swung open, and a shadowy mist slithered through the room, setting everything into motion. It was like a whirlwind spun through, but oddly enough left the animals in the cages alone.

“Whatever it is doesn’t want to be seen. And this could be a problem. It got through the mountain ash barrier I’ve built into this place like it was nothing.”

Derek pushed away from the counter and grabbed his jacket, moving towards the door.

“I won’t be at dinner tonight John.”

“Where are you going?”

Looking over his shoulder.

“Keeping an eye on our boy. If someone’s gunning for him or Scott, I don’t want them exposed or in danger.”

Melissa stepped forward.

“What about you? Your files have been stolen from each place too. They could just as easily be coming after you.”

Derek shook his head.

“Won’t matter. We watch each others backs.”

Pausing for a moment, he said with genuine concern.

“You make sure you all do the same.”

With that, the back door to the vet’s office slammed shut. The distant rumble of the car, the crunch as it pulled out on the gravel and was off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get a little further along. Thank you for your patience with things! I promise I am working through the story, but I'll be slow for a little while yet.


	9. When Needs Must

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L.A. is supposed to be where they are safe from the worst of it, but sometimes, things find you when you aren't really ready for them.

This was not how he had planned spending his first weekend back from reading week in Beacon Hills. Luckily he’d gotten his term papers completed and emailed in to his professors. He highly doubted he’d be awake in time to hand them in tomorrow. He’d even been lucky enough to get a confirmation from his profs that they’d received his paper, and he had the next day off. All these thoughts and more spun through his head as he flew airborne, smashing bodily into one of the trees in the botanical garden. Oh the facilities managers were NOT going to like that one bit. 

Slumping to the ground, he looked up through his swollen eye and took stock of what was going on. Scott was holding his own against two Betas, but that just left the Alpha for Stiles to worry about. Piece of cake. Except that he'd used the small amount of mountain ash he’d been carrying on the other two Betas that were trapped by the school of music. Reaching into his sleeves, he pulled out the batons with a wheeze, trying to get back to his feet.

“That the best you can do? Toss the human around like a rag doll and knock over some trees. Not too scary if you ask me.”

Propping himself up against the tree, he watches with a wary eye as the unnamed Alpha paces around him.

“I just heard that Hale’s Bitch was going to school here. You can imagine my surprise when I see that Hale’s Bitch is just some little Bitch-Boy. You’ve been bred plenty though haven’t you. Smell like a bitch in heat. I wonder what your boy will do when he smells that I’ve taken his place in you.”

Stiles immediately tensed up at that thought. He’d honestly been prepared for the prospect of a fight to the death with this Wolf. He hadn’t anticipated the real possibility that he’d be mounted just to piss on Derek’s cornflakes. Pale by nature, he went even paler, swinging the baton in one hand. Impressed for a half a second that he didn’t give himself a massive welt like every other time he’s practised with these.

The Alpha grabbed himself through his pants, showing how eager he was to claim Stiles from under Derek, grinning lewdly at the human, and growling. Stiles dropped down a little bit, but didn’t shift his gaze from the Alpha’s. Tensing, he tried to remember what Derek taught him about watching his opponent, looking for the tells that would telegraph his movements. Seeing the wolf’s legs tense up, he prepared himself the best he could, jumping out of the way at the last second, letting the Alpha go head first into the tree. Swinging around with both batons, he whipped his aggressor across the back of the legs, making him drop, before focussing on his head. 

Getting in a few good blows, the Alpha shook it off somewhat, though he was seeing a bit more than double, the blood pouring from a split in the scalp was also a plus in Stiles’ eyes, he found himself flying, once again, through the air. Turning somewhat, he felt his shoulder get jammed out of socket, and the baton break beneath him. Holding the twisted metal in his bad hand, he switched it to his good hand and spun, stabbing it blindly. Luck, it would seem, was on his side, as the twisted broken end embedded itself in the charging Alpha’s throat. 

Watching the bastard drop to the ground, he heard Scott dispatch the two Betas. Running over to his friend, eyes Alpha red, he looked at the three bodies on the ground. None of them moving. None of them breathing. Looking his friend over, he saw the awkward angle he was holding his arm. Wincing, he pulled out his phone.

“Deucalion is not going to be pleased there are more of these shit heads crawling out of the woodwork.”

Firing off a text message to his ally who was responsible for most things Wolfie in L.A., he also asked for a clean up crew. It was sad to say that he and Stiles were somewhat immune to the sight of dead bodies, but they’d had to kill before. Only as a last ditch effort, and only when absolutely necessary.

“Come here, Let me take a look at that.”

Scott reached out to examen Stiles’ shoulder, but drew his hand back at the absolutely fearful expression on his friend’s face. His eyes were dinner plate wide, and his skin was so pale it was almost see through. If Scott looked closely, even without the enhanced vision he was gifted with, he’d be able to trace the blood vessels in Stiles’ face. This wasn’t because of the bodies. That was not what this haunted look was about.

Hearing some rustling in the distance, Scott’s claws appeared as he wolfed out, preparing for round two. Sighing in relief when it was Derek who appeared on the scene, before he could say anything, he found himself pushed out of the way as Derek zoned in on Stiles who was, for the moment, lost in shock.

Reaching out and gently touching Stiles’ face, he supported his lover as the human doubled over and spewed bilious vomit on the ground. Not paying any attention to the rancid odour, Derek rubbed Stiles’ back, while simultaneously putting his shoulder back into place, taking the pain at the same time so as to not shock Stiles back to reality. After the nausea had passed, Stiles stood up right, his face a mask of tears, with a thin line of spittle dripping from his lips, and the ghost white mask of shock marring his otherwise joyous features. 

Derek looked at Scott with a mirrored expression on his face, and looked at the three bodies. In the distance, he heard Deucalion’s men and women arrive to sterilize the site. In 5 minutes there’d be nary a sign that three werewolves died here. Scooping up Stiles, he and Scott took the back ways to the dorm. Derek was ignoring the pain he felt in his gut, and the panic he’d endured as he redlined his car to close the distance between him and Stiles. 

Looking over at Scott, he said in a voice that was a whisper of its usual strength.

“What happened?”

Scott opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the lost sound of Stiles’ voice.

“He was going to rape me.”

Derek felt each word stab into him like a knife. Some Alpha bastard had threatened HIS mate?!?

“I’m going to kill him.”

Stiles was not too forthcoming with any more information, so Scott took over. “Stiles already did.”

Pinching his eyes shut as though to ward off the night, he shook his head.

“That explains the sudden panic I felt as I arrived. God, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”

Derek murmured into Stiles neck a million apologies and a million promises. The calm, reassuring tone from Derek relaxed Stiles hyper alert state, and allowed him to start processing. The tears were flowing, and Derek’s face was wet with his own. Scott maintained the vigilant guard, allowing his Pack mates to comfort each other.

Unlocking the doors to their dorm, he breathed a sigh of relief that their R.A. was nowhere to be seen, and the halls were deserted. It was 3am after all, but that meant little in college. Opening their door, Scott escorted Derek and Stiles in, and cleared off Stiles’ bed so Derek could lay him down. Not breaking contact for a second, Derek maneuvered so Stiles could curl up on him, but sit up right while talking to Scott. 

Reaching into the bar fridge, he pulled out a beer for himself and Derek, and grabbed the first aid kit to patch up Stiles. Hearing Derek’s warning growl as he got closer to the injured Stiles, Scott held his hands palm up, and said in a very calming tone that he used when dealing with injured dogs at the vet.

“I’m just going to clean up the cut on his head, the scrapes on his arms, and the cuts on his palms. My hands will be where you can see them at all times, and if you or Stiles tell me to stop, I’ll drop what I’m doing and back away, okay?”

Derek let out a little whimper of acceptance. Truth was, he felt useless, given that Stiles had already killed the psychopath who had threatened him. Adjusting himself so Scott would have access to Stiles’ injuries, they breathed a sigh of relief when they saw that Stiles had passed out. Adrenaline overload to put it mildly. 

In a calm, slow, methodical manner, Scott cleaned and dressed the wounds, giving reassuring touches to both Stiles and Derek as he went. He wasn’t studying to be a vet for nothing after all. He could work with humans, but animals were his specialty. Being able to calm an injured German Shepherd was a skill that worked with reassuring stressed out Werewolves. Closing up the first aid kit, he stuffed the thing that was the size of a suitcase back under his bed. Taking a sip of his beer, he sat on his bed, kicking his shoes off and the ruins of his socks. The shoes survived him wolfing out. The socks never did.

“So. What brings you to our humble little ‘burb?”

Derek took a sip of his beer, running his free hand through Stiles’ stubble that he called a hair cut.

“Something’s after us again. And we have no idea what.”

Scott thunked his head into the wall. Shaking his head he took another sip of his beer.

“Fuck. And when you say something?”

“None of the surveillance tapes captured it. It was like a force of nature. And it’s smart. It’s got medical record. School records. Police records. We think it’s down to hunting you, me, Lydia, Danny and…”

He couldn’t even bring himself to add Stiles to that list, especially after what just happened.

“Stiles. Or any one of us. Shit. No wonder you hauled ass down here. Look. I think we can hide you out here for a little bit, but our R.A. is a suspicious little imp and I’d rather not cross him.”

Derek shook his head.

“I’ll call Deucalion. See if there’s an apartment I can rent for us to stay in until the semester’s done.”

Looking down at Stiles.  
 “This wasn’t how I was planning on asking you to move in with me but…”

“It is what it is Super-Wolf.”

Derek blinked a little in surprise, but he shouldn’t be shocked. Stiles, in a dead sleep, could carry on a conversation with him and have perfect recollection of it the next morning. Leaning over and pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips, he smiled. 

“Sleep, Love. Sleep.”

With a slight murmur Stiles settled himself in to sleep.

Scott merely stared across the room, a faint smile, in spite of everything. At least, right now, there was a refuge for his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad I killed that Alpha. Man I hated him and I didn't even name him.


	10. Closer to Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days after the attack, Derek, Stiles and Scott strive to find their rhythm. But with Derek's chosen mate hurting, it seems to be slow going.

“Hey John. No, no we haven’t moved just yet. Deuc’s taking care of the last details and sending the boys to pack up Stiles and Scott’s stuff today. Where am I? Sitting outside of their lecture hall. Stiles is babbling a mile a minute but their prof sounds impressed so he’s hiding it pretty well. What? No, he isn’t talking much about it just yet, but he’s working through his aggression…behavioural psych remember? Don’t worry. If there’s someone who can recover fully, that’d be my man…erm…your son. Any further leads? Dead stand of trees in the woods? How far from the city? Really. Anything weird? No. Okay. I’ll be in touch. Yes John, we’ll be careful. Hmm? Miss you too. How did last night go with Melissa? Really? Well, good for you. You deserve happiness. Take care. Send Melissa our best.”

Derek hung up the cell phone, not even caring is anyone over heard him. Scott likely would from where he and Stiles were sitting, but that didn’t matter much to him. He kept his eyes on the hallway, watching both entrances to the lecture hall. The thing that tossed the clinic may not show on video feed, but it probably had a corporeal body at least to a degree. Jotting down a few of the creatures he could think of, he’d have to remember to check out the library and look in their mythology section. Sipping on his cold coffee, he grimaced at the bitter taste and the way it coated his teeth. Did he really live off this stuff when he was in New York going to school? Cold coffee and cram sessions?

Tossing it in the rubbish bin to his left, he heard Stiles winding down, and the ticking of the clock. They were about done for the day. This was the last class until astronomy which was an evening class. That one, Stiles professor had agreed that Derek could actually attend, making some excuse about Derek being from out of town and considering going to school here. The flash of the smile from Derek didn’t hurt. He could be very attractive when he wanted to be. 

Getting to his feet as the doors opened, Stiles was the first one out the door. With a smile on his face, and instinct, he wrapped one arm around Stiles’ back and blushed a furious shade of red as Stiles’ free hand found its way into his back pocket. He wasn’t about to tell him to stop, but he wasn’t this accustomed to this level of PDA. Call him an old fashioned wolf. Pressing a kiss to Stiles temple, he had a secret smile as Stiles tried to hide the fact he swooned a little at the gentle kiss. With Scott coming up on Stiles other side, they had the human sandwiched between them in case anything were to happen.

“So,” Scott chimes in, “what’s this I hear about the Sheriff and my Mom?”

Derek rolled his eyes. Leave it to the barely 20 year old to focus on THAT when they were being hunted down.

“Your Mom and John went on a date last night. Dinner. Movies. Coffee. That kind of thing.”

“And?” Scott’s curiosity getting the better of him, even though he was somewhat weirded out about his Mom and Stiles Dad hooking up. But, he and Stiles were practically brothers anyway so…

“They have another one scheduled for tonight after we give the all clear that we’re in the apartment.”

“And that would be?”

“Tonight. Deuc’s people are moving your stuff over now, and I’ve picked up a few essentials while you two were in your biology lab. Cora is running down more of my stuff next weekend after she checks on the house.”

They’d found a nice 4 bedroom apartment not far from campus. It was open concept, and ready for move in. Derek didn’t want to tell them what the rent was, after they’d fallen so completely in love with it. This was technically the first place that he and Stiles were moving into together, despite having Scott join them. It wasn’t unusual though in Derek’s world. He, his siblings, and parents lived with an Aunt and her family, and Peter and his family, all under one roof. So it wasn’t outside of the realm of possible that he, Stiles, Scott and Allison would possibly live together. It just meant a large amount of space was needed. That also meant large large bank accounts. Luckily, Derek had both.

Being brought back to reality, dismissing the images of children running around the yard in the summer, he looked at Stiles who had a dreamy look on his face. Pressing a kiss to his lips, Stiles just stopped and wrapped his arms around Derek, breathing in the scent of wolf and leather.

“You’re swooning again.”

“Just let me swoon. You give good swoon.”

Derek just chuckles, allowing Stiles his moment. Steering them across campus, Scott ever vigilant, he whispers barely loud enough for Stiles to hear him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Freaked out. Scared.”

“Why?”

“I felt so…powerless…when he was talking about what he’d do to me. I mean, I get the fighting to the death thing. I get the pissing match thing. But…it scared me that that could have been an outcome.”

Derek’s mouth went dry. He had to ask it anyway.

“Too scared to…”

He didn’t even get the chance to finish before Stiles hand was clamped like a vice over his mouth and nose. Luckily he could hold his breath but that was usually with some prep time. If he didn’t let go in about 30 seconds, this could be interesting.

“Don’t say it don’t even think it I am not going anywhere and you’re stuck with me Stupid-Wolf. I just want to feel like I’m at least a little in control, even only for a bit.”

Giving him a look, Derek licked the inside of Stiles’ palm, heart slowing back to normal.

Off to the side, as though they’d forgotten him, Scott laughed.

“Stiles. You almost gave Derek a heart attack. I thought he was going to keel over for sure.”

Growling under his breath, they made their way across the campus in companionable silence. Derek thought over what Stiles most basic wish was, and how they could accomplish it. 

“Tell you what. I’m going to make something for dinner tonight, to christen the new place, but I want it to be a surprise. We’ll head over to the apartment now, get things settled in, and I’ll run and do the shopping. You two have homework and don’t tell me you don’t I’ve been outside your classes all day. Work on that, and by the time I get home and get dinner ready, you’ll be done and we can relax, at least for the time being.”

Scott nodded his agreement, and Stiles mumbled something about loving food, so that was pretty much an agreement. 

Tossing the thoughts around in his head, he formulated a game plan, to get things back to what passed for normal in their screwed up lives. Breathing in Stiles’ scent, he growled protectively over his mate. Not that he’d tell Stiles that’s what he thought of him as…that might be a bit much for him right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter for this one and the next one.


	11. Where Action and Intent Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path to healing can lead through some unexpected twists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not read this chapter if you are offended by light S&M.

The overwhelming smell of cooked food filled the apartment with that much needed “home” vibe. Temporary though it was, the sooner they made it feel like home the better. Roast beef (rare of course), potatoes, salad, and pie. Contrary to popular belief, Derek actually possessed some marketable skills in the realm of the culinary set. Usually leaning on the side of mass quantity cooking because most werewolves could eat you out of house and home. The fact that Scott was barely out of his teens, he still had the super ramped metabolism of a teenage werewolf, where Stiles seemed to have a hollow leg.

Setting the table and hauling out the food, he all but kicked Stiles out of their bedroom so he could do a few last minute things before dinner. After taking a moment in the bedroom, he’d changed into something that wasn’t, well, splattered with cooking grease. He was good in the kitchen, but he made one hell of a mess. It didn’t matter the complexity of the meal. Last time he’d made scrambled eggs, he’d found shells in the waist band of his underwear, which took some doing since he wasn’t wearing them at the time. It was naked brunch, served off the small of Stiles’ back. It was hard to believe that was only last week.

Their dinner had passed somewhat quietly, Scott unsure of what to say, and not wanting to make it worse, erred on the side of caution and kept his mouth shut. Stiles was still doing that thousand yard stare thing that was so very disconcerting given that he was the one who normally filled the empty space with his energy. It physically hurt him to see Stiles so reserved.

Slowly sipping his glass of wine, he looked at Scott over the rim of the glass, then he shifted his gaze to Stiles. Getting to his feet, he grabbed the bottle of wine, his glass and Stiles’, and took Stiles by the hand, leading him down the hall to their bedroom. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of it being their bedroom, not just his room, or Stiles room, or Stiles and Scott’s room, but his and Stiles. Before opening the door, he said in a soft voice.   
“Close your eyes.”

Stiles jerked his head back just a little in shock. That was…unexpected.

“O-kay.” He dragged out the last syllable an extra second or two before closing his eyes. 

Pushing the door open with his elbow, he watched to make sure Stiles didn’t open his eyes. Setting down the wine glasses and the wine, he pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles’ lips. Smoothing his hands down Stiles’ chest, he traced the developing lines of the new definition appearing on Stiles’ body. He resisted every instinct that told him to rip off every shred of clothing Stiles had, and claim him as his own. Breaking the kiss, he cupped Stiles’ face in his hands and said in a voice that held promises between two hearts, he whispered.

“Open your eyes.”

Stiles did as was requested. His jaw dropped only slightly as he took in the room. It was bare, to be sure, but there was easily a hundred candles lighting the nearly empty space. Given the fact they weren’t dying of heat exposure, and on closer inspection they were battery operated. Probably for the best given that there was a curtain sitting right on top of three of them. The room was all dressed up in whites and blacks. The king sized bed was fully assembled, a nice polished headboard complete with leather restraints matched perfectly with the crisp white duvet that was lined with a variety of paddles, collars, and lubes. At the end of the bed was a midnight black throw, that gave off just the slightest hint of purple in the low light.

Wait. 

Stiles looked back. Restraints. Paddles.

“What in the name of…what? Explain?”

Taking Stiles by the hand, he moved them over and sat on the edge of the bed. Looking deeply into Stiles’ eyes, he smiled a little at the confusion he found there. It wasn’t revulsion, so that was a definite plus. Finding his mouth suddenly dry, he stated very slowly.

“You were saying you wanted to feel like you’re in control after everything that happened…and I think this might help you with it. You calling the shots. You having all the say. You being in charge. I can forget sometimes that you’re human, because you are such a powerhouse in my eyes. I want you to call the shots. I…”

At this, Derek slid off the bed, and rubbed his cheek on Stiles’ knee.

“…am your servant for tonight. You can do anything you want to me. If I call red, we stop. If I call yellow, we slow down. If I call green, just keep going okay?”

Kissing Stiles knee, he sat back on his heels, looking up with a gaze that held nothing but trust and devotion. Stiles sat there, a little confused, and expecting Derek to suddenly make a joke. Without one forthcoming, he swallowed heavily. 

There was something in Derek’s eyes the pulled him into motion. Reaching over, he grabbed the collar that had the ring at the front. It was still tight. Brand new. The inside was lined with velvet. This was not just a knock off. This was lovingly crafted.

Securing the collar around Derek’s neck, a corner of his lip twitched. Something about that sight made him very happy. Getting to his feet, he looped his finger through the connection piece on the collar. Tracing his hand down the shirt Derek was wearing, he smiled.

“What do you want me to do?” Derek said in a throaty whisper.

Stiles eyes took on a more steely look. Slapping Derek across the face, Derek let out a gasp. It wasn’t one of shock. It was arousal.

“What did you say to me?”

Eyes down cast, slipping into the role, in the same throaty whisper he asked, “What would you like me to do, Sir?”

That brought a smile to him. He knew this sort of thing wasn’t an everyday thing, but for some escape, and some therapy, it would definitely fit the bill. Getting on the bed, he reclined in the pillows like he were royalty. Smiling a half smile.

“Take off your clothes, slowly. Start with your shirt.”

Undoing each button on his shirt, pulling the fabric apart to show glimpses of his chest as he went he slid it off, leaving it in a rumpled heap on the floor. The next was his belt, which promptly added to the pile. Undoing the top button of his jeans, he slowly undid the zipper. As he’d decided to forgo underwear, his hard cock sprung free, red, and dripping with precum in anticipation. Kicking his pants free, he stood there with his hands behind his back, shoulders back, chin up, feet shoulder width apart. Feeling Stiles’ eyes on him, he did his best to keep his eyes straight forward, but he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at the hungry look his lover was giving him.

There appeared to be more than one wolf in the bedroom.

Stiles slid from the bed, and looked Derek in the eye.

“I didn’t give you permission to look at me while I was assessing you.”

“I’m sorry Master.”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it. No. I think you need to be punished. I’d spank you, but I have a use for that ass tonight, and I don’t want to deny myself.”

Looking at the assortment of tools that Derek had picked up, he picked up two things that he guessed were nipple clamps. A wicked smile crossed his lips. Derek’s nipples were beyond sensitive.

“These will do nicely.”

Bending slightly, he assaulted first the left nipple, then the right one, purring in delight as he felt Derek hold back the growl that usually accompanied him playing with the tender nibs of flesh. Clipping each clamp on, he gave the tension a twist tighter. Seeing a slight wince, he raised an eyebrow at Derek.

“Green as the forest.”

Nodding his head, that meant he was DEFINITELY good to go. Looking down at Derek’s hard cock, he loosely trailed his hand over the length of the shaft before gently tickling his balls. 

“Take off all my clothes. You may use your fangs and claws only. If I feel finger tips, you’ll be punished.”

There was something savage in him that was attracted to a fully wolfed out Derek. Smiling as his lover wolfed out, he marvelled at the tearing of his clothing, and the way the claws and fangs brushed the surface of his skin. If they were just slightly overzealous, he could be really badly hurt, but that was the thrill. 

Kicking the rags away, he took the once again human looking Hale by the hand and led him to the bed. Pushing him down, he bound Derek’s wrists, and gave the nipple clamps a little flick with his tongue. Taking a blindfold, he covered Derek’s eyes. Without his ability to see, and being tied up, his inability to touch, he was more or less at Stiles mercy.

Standing on the bed, one foot on either side of Derek’s ass, he smiled a secret smile to himself. With the height, and the angle Derek was sitting on the bed, he was the perfect height.

“Open your mouth. I’m going to fuck your mouth, and you are going to take it. I’m going to cum, and you are going to swallow it all.”

Bending over, he first placed a savage kiss on Derek’s mouth. With his mouth slightly ajar, Stiles slid in over his teeth, moaning at the slight bit of pain that was associated with it. Throwing his head back in a pornographic moan, he gripped Derek’s head and slowly pistoned in and out of his mouth. Derek breathed slowly through his nose, loving the way Stiles had slid into the role, and was just doing what he wanted. He could handle rougher if it was asked, but the way that Stiles was putting himself into it, he was content to follow his lover’s lead. 

After an eternity, or only a few minutes, neither of them cared, Stiles growled out a warning as he tipped over the edge, and spilled himself in Derek’s mouth. Giving a few shuddering twitches, he braced himself on the wall and sagged. 

Cleaning Stiles cock with only his tongue, he said with a moan that sounded like he was the one who just came, but it was genuine all the same.

“Thank you Master, for allowing me to do that for you.”

Stiles, struggling a little with the English language smiled and ran his hand through Derek’s hair.

“You did good.”

Looking at Derek’s plump lips, he couldn’t resist. Bending over and placing a gentle probing kiss on his mouth, he was almost instantly hard again tasting himself on Derek’s lips.

Leaving Derek tied up he removed the blindfold. Kneeling between Derek’s legs he looked at the red, dripping cock that was just begging for release.

“You did so good that I’m going to give you your reward.”

Grabbing one of the lubes, he laid out on his back and slicked up his fingers. With how Derek was positioned, he had no choice but to watch as Stiles slowly, and carefully prepared himself. Derek’s eyes were half lidded, and glowing a warning glow. He was on edge himself right now. Ignoring that, he threw his head back as he fingered himself in preparation. Teasing Derek was always fun, and it didn’t always have to be verbal sparring either. 

When he’d pushed Derek as far as he was willing, he moved forward, and straddled Derek’s lap. In a swift move that always left a bit of a burn, he impaled himself on Derek’s waiting member. Both of them threw their heads back in enjoyment. Reaching over he undid the clips that restrained Derek’s wrist.

“I need you to hold me. Hold me tight.”

Something in Stiles just broke, and needed putting back together. Derek, immediately shifting out of the role, wrapped himself around Stiles. Burying his face in the small of Stiles neck, he breathed in the fear and sadness.

“Claim me. Make me yours. Get his hands off me and just…just love me.”

Pressing his lips to Stiles’ collar bone, he suckled gently, raising a mark. Repeating that on every inch of skin he could reach, he moved slowly in Stiles, only picking up speed at Stiles urging. With everything they’d done, he couldn’t last long. Feeling Stiles nearing his second orgasm in such a short period of time, he moved at the same pace so they came at the same time.

Wrapping himself protectively around Stiles, he cleared the bed with a shake of the blanket, pulling off the nipple clamps, and cocooned themselves up in the duvet. Holding Stiles tightly like they were trying to occupy the same space, he kissed Stiles who eagerly accepted it. Smiling slightly, Stiles nuzzled him.

“All better.”

While Derek didn’t believe it for a moment, he knew they were on the right path.

***

The next morning, Stiles and Derek emerged from the bedroom, showered, cleaned and dressed. Scott was nowhere to be seen in the apartment. A moment of panic was replaced by howls of laughter as they read the note on the fridge.

“Guys. While I’m glad you two are together and comfortable with expressing your obviously deep seated affection for each other…please close the bed room door next time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot will start moving further forward soon. Just needed to wrap up that loose end.


	12. Summer Time and the Living is Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet school year leads to a much needed reunion with friends and family. A gathering darkness threatens to spill over into their lives, and decisions are made.

The remainder of the semester had passed with very little to disrupt the peaceful passing of time. Stress about finals and term papers bled away to annoyances with packing up to move back to Beacon Hills. How they acquired so much stuff in such a short period of time was beyond them. Scott insisted they should pack it all up and move it back home for the summer. Stiles insisted they should just leave it behind because they were going to be moving back here at the end of the summer anyway. Derek rolled his eyes, cursed a lot, and mostly promised John that he'd have Stiles home in time for dinner the day after the semester ended. They were almost at the car. This was progress. 

"Stiles. For the last time we are not staying here next year. Why aren't you listening. Derek. Back me up?""

Opening his mouth, he found himself cut off.

"Just a second." Stiles turned to look at Scott. "How do you know we're not staying here next year. Do you have a crystal ball? Are you suddenly Psychic-Wolf? Can you see the future?!?"

Growling a warning growl, Derek went to speak, but was cut off by Scott. Throwing his hands in the air, he got into the driver's seat, started the car, and waited for the air conditioning to kick in.

"I don't need to see the future Stiles. I saw the dining room table."

Stiles cocked an eyebrow. Derek stopped flipping through radio stations. 

Under his breath, knowing full well Scott could hear him, he growled, "One more word and you're walking back."

Scott swallowed heavily and climbed in the back seat. Stiles took the front and glared balefully over his shoulder.

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

Derek smiled a sheepish smile.

"So...what would you say if I asked you to move in with me, in a house I may or may not have just...bought."

Stiles was absolutely gobsmacked. 

And the drive was silent.

***

Looking to the lightening sky, she felt a smile crossing her lips. He was returning. The sacrifice she was waiting for. She could feel him drawing nearer and nearer with every tick of the second hand on the clock behind her. Closing her eyes and letting out a purr, she licked her lips. Sometimes, all you needed to have was just a little patience. 

Turning back to the counter, she continued to roll out the dough for what she was making. Sprinkling in a few pinches of rosemary and thyme, she folded and kneaded the dough, letting her mind drift on the exquisit pleasures she was going to take with his death. She found her mouth watering for this one. She changed what she would accept, and she was all but shivering in anticipation. 

"Soon."

***

"So, what you're saying is...I mean. What I'm getting you saying is that you bought a house and you're inviting me to live in it with you."

"Well. Not entirely. I...well...that is to say that I bought us a house...and I'm hoping you'd be happy making it the us house instead of the my house."

Stiles got out of the car in front of his father's place, stretching out the kinks in his back. Scott hopped out, smiling at the sight of his Mom's car in the driveway like it belonged there. Parked further down the road was Allison's Dad's SUV, and what he assumed to be Lydia or Jackson's card. Dinner was planned for everyone considered family. Disfunctional though it was. 

"You're serious."

"Like a heartattack." Derek still looked as sheepish as he did when they left L.A.

Scott just rolled his eyes. "You know. I love you both. I do. But you're both just such idiots. Stiles. Derek bought YOU a house, and he's hoping you'll take it and live with him in it. It probably has a white picket fence even."

Derek blushed.

"No shit. Serious? Dude. Seriously. If you don't I will."

Stiles swung a leg out to kick at Scott's retreating back end as his pain in the ass of a best friend who was running ahead to announce they were home. Hanging back for a second, Stiles smiled to crack a little joke, but thought better of it when he saw the tension in Derek's eyes, while he was waiting for an actual answer.

Smiling more kindly, rather than being an ass about it, he smiled.

"Of course I'm going to live with you. I thought you'd figured that out by now."

Shrugging while he walked up the path.

"You're my home now. Anything else...just walls."

Jogging to catch up with Scott, Derek stayed rooted on the sidewalk for a second. Whispering under his breath, knowing it would only be him and the wind that heard him, he smiled and said, "Marry me."

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he took off after Stiles and Scott, blowing into the livingroom right behind them. He found himself immediately assaulted by the sounds of life and reunion. Staying off to the side while Stiles and Scott hugged/kissed/chest bumped (really Stiles? Chest bumping Melissa?) their way through their friends and family. Trying to slink into the kitchen to stay out of the way, he felt a pair of hands fall on his shoulders. Turning around, he found himself face to face with a for-once-out-of-uniform John Stilinski. In a sudden move, the older man pulled him into a tight (for a human) hug. Tensing up for a second, he returned the hug.

"Welcome home Son. We missed you."

Blushing a little at the familiarity, he smiled a little shyly.

"I missed you too."

Feeling Stiles' arm wrapping around his waist, he relaxed noticeably. Giving Melissa a one arm hug, he couldn't help but smile when she wrapped her arm around John's waist with the same familiarity he was now enjoying. Looking around, he waved at Deaton who apparently had been hiding in the back corner of the living space. While he couldn't see her, he also caught Cora's scent.

"Alright. So. I'm starving. Where did you say we were going to dinner?"

John just chuckled.

"A Chilean restaurant opened about, 4 months ago? I was investigating a complaint about a break and entry there about two months ago, mentioned that I was expecting some friends and family to be home around now, so the owner booked a reservation for us, and because we caught the little shit who broke in, she's made it an exclusive reservation so, we have the place to ourselves."

John reached for his keys but Melissa slapped his hand.

"You have the night off John. We are NOT taking the cruiser. Come on. Chris said he'd be the D.D. so we can actually enjoy ourselves. Allison, why don't you and Scott take my car. The grown ups should be fine on our own. 

Tossing Scott the keys, they eventually organized themselves enough to proceed like a convoy to the "Chile Nights" restaurant. Laughing and bustling in, they plunked down in their seats at the long table that took up the entire centre of the restaurant. They were, for the most part, coupled up. Jackson and Lydia. Stile and Derek. Allison and Scott. John and Melissa. The only odd ones out seemed to be Danny, Isaac, and Mr. Argent. It seemed to work for them though. 

Working through their dinner in almost record time, the younger members of the party caught up on the "what's new" in each other's lives. The centre piece of conversation seemed to be that Derek and Stiles were moving in together. Jackson was moving closer to Lydia (but not quite ready to make that jump). Allison and Scott were making due with the distance, but Scott was moving with Derek and Stiles, and if Allison wanted to she could join them. This caused Chris to choke into his wine, and mutter something under his breath about not being old enough to have a daughter old enough to be having that conversation. 

As the evening bled into the night, the owner of the restaurant came out from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

"I trust everything was to your standards and everyone enjoyed themselves?"

She had a light hint of an accent.

Melissa spoke up for the group. "It was absolutely wonderful. Thank you. Those biscuits you served...they tasted quite different but in a tremendously good way. What did you do with them?"

The owner chuckled and shrugged.

"A pinch of rosemary and a little thyme. It helps enhance some of the dishes, or kill some of the spice if it's too much."

"Delicious. How much do we owe you?"

The owner shook her head.

"Nothing at all. Believe me. You'll be giving up enough to me soon enough."

There was something discomforting with how she said that. The laughter stoped dead, and the assembled group took a long look at her. She was petite. 5'2" if she was an inch, and couldn't have topped out at more than 100lbs. Her black hair fell poker straight to the small of her back. Her chocolate eyes took in the group, and the faintest remainder of a tan graced her skin. She drew in the heat from the room, making it seem a bit chill. Smiling a toothy smile, her teeth were impossibly white. 

"What do you mean."

Everyone slowly got up from the table. After the incident with Gorgons the summer after senior year, they knew not to underestimate the tiny ones. The Wolves shifted to a more battle ready mode. Chris pulled a gun from the back of his pants. Stiles even had his batons out.

Giggling a small giggle that would have been more at home coming from a child, she shrugged.

"What I mean is that I have come to this town to find my sacrifice...and you've all but served it up on a platter to me. See. I've been around. I go where I please and I demand my due. I demand a virgin sacrifice, and he is in this room right now. "

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, humming to herself.

"Power. Pure, unadulterated power."

Stiles subtly shifted to put himself between Derek and the psycho woman who was probably more than what they could perceive. 

Derek, not about to fight and cause a distraction growled.

"Innocence."

Opening her eyes, she set her gaze on Stiles. The laser focus excluded everyone else in the room. Taking a slow step towards him, Stiles all but laughed in her face.   
"Innocent? Hardly. Not exactly a virgin here."

"I've taken innocent whores before."

"And I haven't exactly NOT killed someone."

"In self defense. I can see him in your mind right now. You have been affected by so much tragedy and death. You have given yourself over to one, over and over, and yet you are untouched. You are a single innocent soul. You are what I demand. Or, you will watch all you love die a painful painful death."

With no warning, a gun shot went off, catching the woman right between the eyes, dropping her to the ground. Everyone backed up towards the door, Chris keeping his gun firmly trained on the dropped body. 

Right as Lydia reached for the door, they were blown away from it by a forceful wind. The Woman got to her feet, pushing the hair out of her face. The damage from the bullet glowed with the light of a fire. Wiping the ichor away, she took a step forward.

"I understand. You feel the need to fight. I get it. I do. Those who fight sometimes feel better about this, but I assure you. In time, you'll bring him to me. You'll be begging me to take him, to stop the suffering."

Pursing her lips, looking distinctively unimpressed with the werewolves, she went to Jackson and sneered.

"What do you think you're going to do to me. Maul me?"

Not needing further prompting, he took aim at her face. Where his claws made contact with her flesh, they flaked and powdered off like they were made of chalk. Snarling in pain, he tried with the other hand to no avail. Shifting back to human.

"What the fuck are you."

Leaning forward, she grabbed Jackson by the collar.

"Your worst nightmare."

Without even flexing a muscle, she threw Jackson through the plate glass window. 

Turning on her heel she says over her shoulder.

"You have one week to say your goodbyes. If you do not bring him to me after 1 week, I will destroy this town and everyone in it."

Not waiting for her to change her mind, the assembled group scrambled out of the building and into their respective vehicles.

"Welcome home."


	13. T-Minus 7 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots of life across the evening of the first night. Some are looking for answers. Some are looking for solace. Some are looking for purpose. And some are looking to beat back the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a few liberties with the powers of the Banshee in the series given that it's perhaps one of the least fleshed out supernaturals in the show at the moment. Hope no-one minds

**Derek & Stiles**

"You're not going to die Stiles. Do you really think I'd let anything happen to you?"

The conversation since they'd gotten back to the Stilinski's place had been somewhat circular, covering the same material over and over again. Peeling off his shirt, and pants, leaving him in a bright yellow pair of boxer shorts that Stiles had clearly picked out for him. Derek put his hands on his waist and looked pointedly at his partner.

"What I'm saying is what if we don't have a choice. You heard what she said. I die, everyone gets to live. I'm not saying it's the ideal scenario, but what if we can't stop her."

"Then we'll deal. I'm not going to panic just yet. Deaton's said he's going to reach out to his fellow Emissaries and see what he can find out. If she's from South America, then maybe they can narrow it down and see what we can do. Chris, Allison and Scott are going through the Beastiary to see if there is a match to how she healed herself after a point blank shot to the head with a hollow point bullet. In the mean time, you are not going to stress out."

Reaching over, he pulled Stiles into him, wrapping his arms around the skinny human. Kissing Stiles gently, he took in his lover's scent, curling into it like a blanket. Rubbing his cheek along Stiles jaw, he closed his eyes, willing the knot of fear in his stomach away, if only for the moment.

"I'll never let anything happen to you."

"Right back atchya babe."

"Did you just call me babe?"

"Dude?"

Derek just smiled. Growled. But smiled.

"Babe is fine. In private."

**Jackson and Lydia**

Sitting on the bed at the hotel, Jackson watched as Lydia paced the room like a caged beast. Her eyes were closed, palms of her hands on her temples, and she was forcing her breathing to be calm. Taking a gasping breath, Jackson was on his feet, brushing the tears away. Looking up into his eyes, she shook her head.

"I can't see him Jackson. I can't see him beyond next week."

The work she'd been doing with Deaton during her school breaks had shown there is a small degree of psychic ability some Banshees carried. If it was nurtured while they were coming into their powers, they could become quite powerful. It helped them track the souls of those in their domain. By her affiliation with the Pack, she had a much closer tie to their souls than anyone else. It was a blessing, and a curse, as so many other things in her life seemed to be.

Letting Jackson hold her, she let the tears run free. Taking a deep breath, she reached into her self and tried looking again. Doubling over in pain, she slid to her knees. Wrapping herself up in Jackson's safe arms.

"Lydia. As much as it pains me to say it, we won't let anything happen to Stiles."

Smiling a small sheepish smile.

"He's Pack-Mom now...and we're not about to let anything happen to our Pack-Mom."

This illicited a small chuckle from Lydia, who mutely nodded her head, clinging to that hope the way she clung to Jackson's arm.

**Allison, Scott and Chris**

"What do you mean there's nothing about a psycho bitch from hell who demands sacrifices of innocence?"

Chris and Allison looked up from their reading, annoyed at the outburst. Taking a moment and collecting himself, Allison's father looked at Scott with a kind of understanding.

"It's not like there's a Google function in the books Scott. This takes time, and if none of the family has run into something like this before, or even legends about it, we're just as blind as you are. We'll figure it out. Nothing's going to happen to Stiles. Allison, maybe you can go down to the armory and see if there's anything down there that could help."

Sitting back and tossing his glasses onto the stack of papers infront of him.

"She healed with fire. Look for something that has a high combustion temperature and is somewhat explosive. If we can keep her from healing we might be able to keep her from killing Stiles. We have a week. We'll come up with something."

Allison slid out from the dining room table, and lead Scott down the flight of stairs to the apartment they'd purchased just below the one they had set up in. It had been heavily refitted in the last couple years, and while it looked like a normal apartment from the outside, it was lined with enough weapons to start a small war.

Taking the stairs two at a time, the lights flicked on as they entered, having gone the efficient route for motion sensors and LED lighting. Making their way through a few racks, Allison pulled a couple things from the wall.

"Hollow point injectable arrow loaded with a thermite compound. If she uses fire, she may think twice about doing anything stupid."

Scott's eyebrows rose.

"You're kind of scary. You know that right?"

Allison merely chuckled and nodded.

"Well. Girl's gotta have a hobby."

**John and Melissa**

"Ever get that feeling like you're just a side character in someone else's TV show and that you only exist to have something bad happen to your loved ones?"

John looked up from the reports he was reading, and the information he'd been able to get on the owner of the restaurant. She went under the assumed name of Cherie Del Fuego since coming to North America and had put down her age as 25. That was all they could find.

"Have you been spending more time with my son without me knowing?"

Setting the papers down, he circled the desk, and drew her in closer. He could see the concern clear as day on her face. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he rested his forehead on hers. Breathing slowly, he rubbed her uppers arms in what was supposed to be soothing.

Smiling a wan smile, she rested her hands on his shoulders, marvelling at the wiry strength contained within. Like father like son. 

"So, what can we do?"

"I don't know Melissa. We read? Try and find out what we can. Help them the best we can. But I'll be damned if I lose my son to that bitch."

Nodding slightly, she pushed away from him, moving across his bedroom and pulling the duvet cover back. Changing into a pair of jogging shorts, and one of his t-shirts, she climbed into bed, pulling out a tablet, and firing up a search engine.

"Let's see what there is to learn about the mythic beasts of Chile then."

"Hun. It's not mythical. It's gotta be real."

"Just like werewolves?"

Stopping dead in his train of thoughts, he shrugged.

"Mythic beasts of Chile it is then."

**Danny, Isaac and Deaton**

"Okay. So, we've narrowed it down to what it isn't, and what likely won't stop it. Mountain ash seems to not even be worth trying. She heals with fire, but we saw her drinking water, so water won't be a weakness. She's masked herself from detection from the werewolves and from Lydia, or she would have alerted us to an agent of death when she first hit town. What else do we know."

Danny, who really had no stakes in this battle, aside from preventing the destruction of his home town, had done a remarkable amount in a short period of time. He'd compiled the information in a quick easy to read format and was eliminating things as he went. His remarkable calm was impressive to Deaton who nodded his head in an appreciative manner.

"You'd make an excellent Druidic Emissary Danny."

Shrugging his shoulders Danny merely nodded. "Makes sense. Grampa Mahealani was one back in Hawaii. Dad wouldn't but." He shrugged. "It's something to think about for sure."

"What does all this tell us?" Isaac was a bit more impatient, but it was like what Jackson had said. Pack Mom was in danger, and he was on edge.

"What all this tells us is that we aren't dealing with a normal creature. Something, more primal. Something a bit more elemental. We aren't dealing with a human type creature like we're used to."

"This is going to be a lot more difficult then?"

Deaton looked down at the ground.

"It could be almost impossible."

This was the part of being the Emissary to the Beacon Hills Pack he hated. He had to keep the balance, regardless of personal feelings. That was the theory anyway. He'd never been a particularly good Druid in that sense. 

"We need options, and we don't have much time for them.


	14. T-Minus 4 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With four days left to find a plan, alternatives are explored, and the Pack faces one of its most trying moments.

**Stiles**

"Look, Neal. Nancy I get what you're saying, I do but I'm less concerned about the possible ramifications if you do succeed than I am about the ramifications if you don't. I know it isn't a lot of time, but I'd asked you once about it and you said with a few days notice and a rough idea where the target was, you'd be able to do it. You have that. I'm really hoping you weren't blowing smoke up my ass. Yeah. Yeah. No. I got it. You clear on what I need? Don't...say that. I know. It's gotta be what it's gotta be...maybe they'll forgive me...but at least they'll be alive to hate me. Okay. Be ready. I may not be able to call you again. Just...be ready."

Pinching his eyes closed, he looked at the photo on his desk. Dad had insisted on taking it during easter break when he'd come home with Derek and Scott. A nice family picture, him and Melissa seated on the loveseat, with Derek and his Dad behind them. It wasn't exactly posed considering Derek had Stiles in a headlock, and Melissa had pretty much jerseyed his Dad, but the timer was set to automatic and they'd all laughed their asses off with how it turned out, so he'd gotten them printed and framed. Pressing his long fingers to the glass, absently stroking their smiling faces, he gave himself the luxury of a few muffled sobs before he resolutely wiped the emotion from his face. Taking a deep breath to calm his heart, he wiped his eyes and opened the window, letting the warm summer air dampen the emotional residue that he knew he left behind.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he simply looked tired which was appropriate given that he'd barely slept last night. He'd barely slept since the pronouncement. He knew Derek hadn't either, but the too quick beating of his heart. Instead they lay together, pretending they were asleep, not daring to trust their voices for fear of frightening the other one. They clung to each other, and moved together like it would push away the dawn. It didn't. It never did.

Taking one last breath, he grabbed the keys to the Jeep and bounded downstairs. Deaton had found some information and sounded quite serious when he'd called earlier and asked him to join them at the Vet clinic. Nearly everyone was there already, and Derek promised he'd meet him there.

Looking back over his shoulder, he tapped the doorway, as though this would be the last time he saw this place, which was ridiculous, given that he still had 4 days before he was supposed to die.

**Derek**

"What do you mean you won't do it?"

Deucalion shook his head sadly. That much emotion was conveyed clearly through the webcam.

"It isn't that I won't do it Derek. I cannot. Something is preventing my wolves from entering Beacon County. As soon as you sent word, I sent my best. It's like your area is cordoned off in a ring of mountain ash and we can't break through. I know I owe you and your Pack a debt that can never be repaid."

"We don't care about..."

"But I do. And it would be an honour to work to help you save the life of your mate. He shows the compassion and wisdom I haven't seen since Talia. He is a true warrior, made even more noble by the fact he is human. If anything changes, and we are able to break through, my people are on standby and will be at your side in a heartbeat. Until then my Friend, be well. We are hoping for a happy outcome."

Derek slumped back in his chair, watching as the computer monitor blinked, showing the end of the call. Massaging his forehead, he let out a high pitched keening in the back of his throat. Looking at the clock, he grabbed his jacket and walked to the front of his house. Looking around, it seemed so large without Stiles there to fill the space. Blinking back the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes, he took a long slow breath, settling his mind. They had 4 days to come up with a game plan to save Stiles, and save the town. Plenty of time, right?

Right?

"Oh god let me be right..."

**Vet Clinic**

Deaton had worked through the days and nights, gathering as much information as he could, putting it all together in a way that would make sense. There wasn't that much information to be had, but one of the Shamans he knew who did research into South American cults and cultures that performed ritualistic human sacrifice had called him at about 5 in the morning with enough points of information that it fit the bill. He didn't like going off unsubstantiated information, but sometimes you didn't have a choice. 

Looking at the very somber group, he looked at the clock. He'd told Stiles and Derek to meet him here a full hour after everyone else. Leaning on the exam table, he looked off into the distance, lost in thought. All that must be would come to be. He believed that deep in his soul, but even his stoic demeanour seemed like it was ready to break apart in rage at the injustice of it all. Stiles was, in truth, the moral compass of the group. He wasn't always perfect, but he agreed with what the Monster had said. Stiles was the purest soul around. Punching the stainless steel exam table, he winced and brought his uninjured hand to his face, to scrub away the emotion that threatened to swallow him whole.

Taking in the shocked looks, he noted that Lydia had avoided make up at all, the puffy bloodshot eyes giving away what she'd been doing the last few nights. Jackson looked like he'd run coast to coast for how worn out he was. Isaac was paler that usual. Scott was putting up a brave front, but hadn't said a word, afraid his voice would betray him. Allison spoke with a cold, clipped manner, biting back the rage she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. Chris looked...out of it. Not himself. 

Turning to look at Melissa and John, the ordinarily put together adults of the group who normally didn't have a clue what was going on, had the look of fear that any parent would when faced with the potential loss of a child. They were clinging to each other out of fear, that even relaxing their white knuckled grip in the slightest, that they'd lose their grip on the intended victim of the piece.

From the front, the door bell rang. A shuffle of feet and the click of the front counter.

Derek walked into the room, alone. Looking a bit bewildered, he took in the assembled group.

"Where's Stiles?" 

**Stiles**

"It's quiet here. Peaceful almost."

He was speaking, but not to himself. Years of living around werewolves had taught him to listen carefully, and to never assume he was alone. The smell of fire and smoke was what hit him first. Looking without turning, he smiled a half smile.

"It's beautiful I will admit. Not quite what I'm used to, but I can see the appeal. You called. I answered. What do you want Mr. Stilinski."

Putting his hands in his pockets, he turned and looked at the diminutive female who claimed to hold the power to destroy the entire city.

"Your word. Your word that if I sacrifice myself, you'll leave those that I love alone."

"You shall have it."

Squinting into the sun, he looked down the cliff where the river ran. It was a decent drop. More than a few deer who were spooked by the things that went bump in the night fell to their doom on the rocks below. 

"Will it hurt?"

His voice was weary. He was tired. He was afraid.

She opened her mouth to say something that would bring his fear, then stopped. Something about the resigned look on his face. His concern for his friends, family, and even the town he regularly disparaged in thought and word. It was part of the reason she'd demanded him as a sacrifice. In all her centuries, he was the first that asked that question. She'd promised herself that if asked the question, she answer in such a way she could drink the fear. Now that the opportunity presented itself, with how earnest and honest he was, she shook her head.

"Not much. I'll make it quick. You won't even know it happened. Like falling asleep."

And she honestly meant it.

"You're a Cherufe aren't you."

This wasn't a question. Another first.

"Yes."

**Vet Clinic**

"And a cherufe would be..."

Deaton sighed heavily. He'd really rather of waited until Stiles was here.

"Chilean deity of the volcano and earthquakes. According to my sources, this one is a half breed. Still powerful, but diluted with human. It's what lets her blend in and move about undetected. She has control over most elements, fire being her primary. She demands sacrifices, or she'll destroy entire cities. This particular one has been around for about 900 years and has been responsible for the fall of several South America civilizations."

"Why Stiles though? Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't most cultures that demand sacrifices obsessed with the virgin kind. I know that Stiles is many things, but since hooking up with Derek here, virgin is NOT one of them."

Lydia had a point.

"This one seems to take innocence at the same regard or higher than virgin. For everything that he's done and been through, Stiles still has that spark that makes him innocent. Makes him pure. That purity is what she's after."

Derek spoke softly. "He's the only one strong enough to look into my darkness, and make my darkness flinch. He is love, embodied. His love has been my redemption. My salvation. His love..."

Derek went pale. So pale, he nearly collapsed.

"His love would save us all."

Moving towards the door, the group exchanged a look of confusion, before the thought slowly dawned on all of them.

"Grab any weapon you have. I know where he'd go."

**Stiles**

Breathing deeply, he opened his eyes. They'd know by now. They'd have figured it out. In the back of his mind he felt Derek's panic. Funny, how coming on the end, he felt the bond that should never have been there in the first place. Resting his hands on the small of his back, he closed his eyes, feeling the air cooling on his face. The sun was setting. It wouldn't be long now. Standing up, he looked at Cherie the Cherufe, and nodded his head.

"I have your word."

"You have my word."

Closing his eyes, he smelled the fire starting. Casting his thoughts to the cosmos, he begged the world to help his friends and family forgive him. Forgive him for not giving them time. Forgive him for taking matters into his own hands. Forgive him for abandoning them. Taking a deep breath, he felt the blaze on his face. Close enough to touch, but not quite. 

"I'm rea..."

He never got the chance to finish the sentence. Flying through the air, he careened into a tree, Jackson snarling at him. Trying to push himself up, he couldn't move his left arm. Looking down he saw that it was broken clear in two, between his elbow and shoulder. Holding his arm close to him, he looked around and saw Jackson, Isaac and Scott circling around the cherufe. Getting to his feet, he felt around the small of his back and smiled a grim smile. Hearing a twig snap above him and to the left, he saw Chris and Allison Argent, bows out, arrows drawn, firing with speed and accuracy that would make Legolas jealous. 

The cherufe merely took hit after hit, but didn't make a move to retaliate. After a moment, she swiped the arrows from her body, silver veins radiating out from the impact points. Moving forward into the clearing, Stiles looked at the assembled group.

"What are you doing here?!?"

"Saving your life."

Stiles snarled in his best impression of Derek.

"That's what I was doing here."

"Guys. You may want to get back."

Cherie, for her part, picked up a near by rock, approximately the size of Stiles' head. With a flex of her hand, the rock melted, dropping molten material to the forest floor. The sizzle was frightening.

"You may want to be careful with the first thing. Last time I heard, thermite compounds didn't do well in fire. Or water."

Looking down at the patch work of silver veins running under her skin, she let out a howl that sounded like rocks sliding together with a side of animal.

"I may not be able to heal, but that doesn't mean I can't kill. Stiles. What I said about it not hurting. Changed my mind. Changed it a lot."

Reaching out, Derek took Stiles' good hand and dragged him into the woods. Behind him they heard the thunderous crashes of trees falling, and tried their best to compensate for the way the ground was suddenly jumping like it was a water bed. A muffled stumble, and a wet crack, Stiles was splayed out on the ground, his ankle completely broken. Stifling a cry as Derek scooped him up, he smelled water in the distance. They were moving back towards the cliff face. Opening his mouth to shout a warning, for the second time in as many minutes, he found himself flipping through the air, twisting as he went. Landing on the edge of the cliff, his left arm flopping uselessly, he scrambled to arrest his momentum with his right arm.

"DEREK!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, groaning in pain as Derek barely caught him by his left arm. What he couldn't see were the drag marks from Derek's claws dug into the ground to keep himself from going over.

"Stiles. I got you. But I'm slipping. Can you pull yourself up?"

Stiles shook his head.

"Left arm's broken. Can't pull myself up enough to get you with my right."

Derek's eyes went wide. Looking to the distance, whatever the cherufe had done, the other werewolves were down for the count. He could hear Lydia in the distance, but she wasn't fast enough.

"Okay. Okay...this is going to really hurt but I'm going to try and swing you up and onto the cliff. On three okay? One. Two. Th..."

Before he could reach three, he felt the weight almost double that he was holding in his tenuous grip. Looking down, Cherie had scaled the side of the cliff, and with a burning hand, reached out for Stiles. Trying to block his ears to the sound of Stiles' cry of pain, at the heat and the pulling of his broken limb, the stench of burning flesh soon assaulted his nostrils. Tears dripping down his face to splash on Stiles', he gasped. He was all out of ideas. He couldn't swing the weight up. Not the added weight. 

"Lydia. Hurry. I can't hold on much longer."

"You have to let go."

The voice was so calm, and coming from just beneath him. Despite the smoke rising from the ruin of his right leg, Stiles was so calm. Accepting. 

"You have to let go Derek."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"Where I'm going, you can't follow."

From beneath him, the cherufe let out it's scream of delight.

"We're supposed to be together."

"And we were. And it was love, and true. And that's what I give to you."

Somehow, Stiles pulled something from the small of his back. A flare gun.

"You gave me love. I give you life. Be brave."  
Looking one last time into his lover's eyes, Stiles mustered the last of his strength, and pulled the trigger with the flare gun wedged firmly between Cherie's lips. The ignition caught the thermite that was now circulating in her system. He hadn't anticipated that, but it was a nice touch. Hand spasming in Derek's grip, he slipped from Derek's hand right when Lydia reached the ledge.

He never heard her scream.

**Derek**

Derek looked down, blinded by the blazing light of the cherufe igniting, taking Stiles with it. The glowing orb fell into the water where it boiled on contact, the reaction generating even more heat and flame. 

Hearing Lydia's scream snapped him back to reality. Looking at the Banshee who fell to the ground, vomitting bloody bile, he pulled her to his chest and wept.

"Was that a Lydia scream, or a Banshee."

She shook her head.

"I don't...I don't know..."

Chest heaving, he threw his head back and howled and angry howl to the sky. The anger faded to a mournful cry, which was joined slowly by others. His pack, and Deucalion's people made record time coming to his side. Howling at the darkening sky, he looked back to the river. The light was gone. His light was gone.

Stiles was gone.

After a time. It could have been an hour. It could have been a minute. He shifted Lydia into Jackson's arms, staring numbly as his Beta did what he could to dry his eyes. Without looking, without thinking, he'd marched out of the woods, sniffing the night's air, and turning back to the vet's office. 

Staggering as though drunk, he crossed the threshold, and fell to John's feet. Reaching for John's gun, he numbly placed it in John's hands, chambering a round, and flicking the safety off. Pressing the barrel to his forehead, he said in rasping gasps.

"I failed him."

John gave him a questioning look.

"Stiles...isn't coming home. I couldn't protect him."

Chest heaving, he gasped.

"He went. He went and he offered himself and I couldn't save him, and I said if I ever failed him, my life is forfeit."

Closing his eyes.

"Do it. I failed him. I failed you. Just. Do it."

John made no move to comply.

"DO IT!!!"

Derek curled up in the fetal position on the ground, tears pouring out of him, eyes shifting between human and wolf, unable to control his change. Flicking the safety, and popping out the round in the chamber, he tossed his gun to the ground and dragged Derek bodily upright. Throwing his arms around the broken wolf in a bone crushing hug, he shook his head.

"I'm not losing two of my boys. I'm not losing you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end.


	15. Losing My Way - July 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't a graveside confession...but close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in people. The angst is only starting.

The sound of the rushing river filled his senses, and for the barest of nanoseconds, he let the sound overwhelm him. Opening his eyes though, he looked up and saw the cliff that had ended that chapter of his life. The scorch marks marred the rocks that made up the cliff face, and the areas where the moss had grown were still black from the cherufe's touch. Looking into the water, he could see where the intense heat, even in the water, had fused stones together. His keen eyesight followed to where the path ended in the water, and the river once again followed its normal path. 

They hadn't found His body. 

The current thought was that the intense heat had burnt Him to ash, which then washed away in the water. They'd found the body of the cherufe, twisted and broken from the internal heat it sustained and the cool of the water. For good measure they'd taken a sledgehammer to the remains, separated them, and shipped them around the world.

Looking to the sun, he felt no warmth on his face. Everything was dull. Muddied. Like he was listening through cotton and seeing through gauze. If he focussed, he could pull his senses together and be the wolf he was again, but what was the point. There was no laughter to listen for. No heartbeat he cared to hear. Last week had been the full moon, and he barely even noticed it. 

Taking a step towards the water, it would be so easy to just...let go and let the current take him. 

Flashing back on the memory of being paralyzed and held afloat in the school's swimming pool, he stopped dead. Stiles had spent a good long while keeping his head above water to save his life. This would be a serious dishonour to his lover's legacy. 

Taking a step back, he walked away from the water, feet crunching in the gravel. He'd be missed if he was late, though he wasn't entirely sure what to do. It had been the same way when his family had died in the fire. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was generally frowned upon to rip things to shreds as a way of getting through one's grief.

Sliding into his car, he turned with a hopeful look. He's picked up Stiles' scent! Looking at the crumpled hoodie in the backseat, he felt his heart plummet again. Closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill over, he gripped the wheel even tighter. Turning the key, he backed out slowly, turned around, and drove back to the Stilinski residence. 

Pulling into the driveway, he sighed. There were more cars here today than there had been yesterday. Looking at the torn cloth he was wearing, he got out of the car and re-entered the Stilinski home. He really wasn't supposed to leave, but given that he was a Goy, the rules for Shiva didn't entirely apply to him. The local community was willing to cut him a little slack, as he was willing to try and respect the traditions that he'd suspected Stiles of having, but never really made known. 

Acknowledging the people with a curt nod, he joined Stiles' father on a low bench that had been brought up from the basement. John was a convert. Claudia Stilinski was born a Rosenburg and while not the most traditional herself, they observed certain rituals that were meant to make some coping easier. He had to admit, the funerary customs were helping him process.

Looking around, the visitors were mostly Stiles father's age, though he saw Scott in the other room, speaking with Jackson and Lydia in low whispered tones. Closing his eyes, he fought to focus his hearing to pick up what was being said.

"...it's just like last time I was here for this. Everyone was so quiet."

Lydia twitched an eyebrow.

"When Stiles' mom died. Mom and I came over and brought food. We're not Jewish, but she spent the time learning how to make something that would be acceptible. Luckily there weren't any kosher restrictions."

Jackson sighed in pent up frustration.

"I don't get why we can go and talk to them."

"Can't. Unless they come to us first. We're here to comfort them, and give them what they need. If they need to talk, we talk. If not, then we just show our support by being here for them."

Derek gave John's arm a squeeze and got up to where an impromptu Pack meeting seemed to be going on. 

Nodding his head in acknowledgement as he weaved through the crowd, he pulled up short behind Jackson and Lydia. Taking a moment to actually look at Scott, he could tell the other young man had been crying. He likely hadn't stopped. 

Opening his mouth, he sighed. With a breaking voice, he mumbled, "I'm glad you could make it."

He sounded like he hadn't spoken in weeks. The fact was, he hadn't spoken since Stiles died, merely nodding numbly to whatever question he was answered. Startled, Lydia turned around. Her face was pale, her eyes were puffy. She wasn't even playing at looking like she was put together. Jackson looked like he hadn't slept in a week. The dark circles under his eyes a testament to his lack of rest. 

Standing there, not sure of what to do, he lets Scott pull him into a hug, with Jackson and Lydia moving so the three of them had him captured. Ordinarily he'd hate this, but there were exceptions to the rule. Feeling his bottom lip tremble, he realized he was completely obscured from observation. Letting out a soft, shuddering gasp, he found his face damp, which apparently was all the impetus the others needed. Soon after, there wasn't a dry eye in their little island of humanity. They'd lost someone. Someone dear. And nothing would make that okay.

After a few moments, they broke apart. Derek lead them from the room, into the office where they wouldn't be disturbed. Sitting on the ground, everyone else joined him. 

"I'm going out again."

They exchanged a look. The funeral had been delayed a couple days to allow for them to dredge the river and see if they could find Stiles' body. It had been fruitless, but with that taken care of, they could at least move forward with the funeral.   
"I don't think we went deep enough or looked far enough. The river was pretty choppy that night and he may have moved further than we looked."

"Derek..." Scott had started.

Eyes flashing a warning blue, he got to his feet and moved to the door.

"Don't go," Lydia all but whispered. Looking up at Derek, her eyes glittered with tears that were unshed. His hand hovered over the door knob and dropped it. Turning around, he let out a whimper.

"I have to look for him. I have to keep looking for him. Because...if I stop looking."

Leaning against the door.

"If I stop looking, then that means I've given up. And if I give up, then that means I've had to accept that he's really dead. If accept that he's really dead, then I have to accept that I fail him and I can't fail him." He's yelling by now. "He's saved my life so many times, and the one time he needed me, my hand slipped. I couldn't hold onto him and he fell. He fell and I failed him."

Punctuating each word with a punch in the wall. 

"I."

Punch.

"Failed."

Punch.

"HIM!"

Punch. 

Watching as his hand healed, only drywall dust remaining.

Collapsing to the ground, he ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it. Smashing the back of his head into the wall, he buried his face in his hands.

"I was going to ask him to marry me. Before school started back. I was going to ask him to marry me."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small black box. Opening it, there were matching bands of braided white and yellow gold with onyx inset.

"I was going to marry him."

Letting out a choked sob.

"I was going to marry him...and instead I let him fall to his death."


	16. Kindred Spirits - August 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month has come, and a month has gone. Old wounds are not healing as they should, feeling raw and painful. Sometimes, what you need is a kindred spirit, who has lost much, to know you aren't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick little chapter. I'm presently way far out of town, so my internet connection is tenuous at best. I'll try for a more full update when I get back home.

The sound of the rushing river filled his senses, and for the barest of nanoseconds, he let the sound overwhelm him. Opening his eyes though, he looked up and saw the cliff that had ended that chapter of his life. Breathing deeply, he heard the crunching of the gravel behind him. It wasn't anyone he was familiar with, but the scent was familiar. Like he'd passed the person on the street, or in a gathering. Turning around, he saw a tiny slip of a woman with fiery red hair, pale skin, and a pair of green eyes that were a reminder of who he lost. 

"Who are you?"

With a faint smile, she put her hands in the pocket of the ankle length skirt she was wearing. He hadn't even been aware that skirts have pockets. Brushing that information away, he waited for her response. Her aura reminded him of Deaton, but there was something more to it than that. There was darkness here, but old and faded. 

"Family."

"That's what you are. Who are you?"

"The what is more complicated than that. Suffice to say I'm one of Stiles' cousins who knows more about things than you would think."

A wind picked up, but only against the woman. Her hair flashed white briefly, eyes clear and green. When the wind faded, she stood there unruffled.

"I'm the one my dear cousin would call when researching the goings on around here and he couldn't find information that would prove to be useful. I've been around the block a few times Derek."

Walking forward until she stood beside him, he subtly smelled her. She smelled like the woods, and the wind, with hot iron in her core, and the scent of clean water.

"You're a witch."

"Very observant," she deadpanned with a wit not entirely unfamiliar.

"And you're sarcastic."

"Runs in the family." 

Looking at the cliff, the water, and the trees, his eyes clench shut, trying to block out the memory of that night that was over a month ago already. It would have been different if Stiles had screamed as he fell. There would be some sound to go with the emotion. But the, beatific serenity on Stiles face as their hands disengaged tugged at his heart in a way he'd never experienced. The totality of loss was imprinted on his soul. It was as though one of Stiles last gifts to Derek was his smiling face, rather than a nightmare of anguish.

"He was the best of us."  
To this, the woman merely nodded her head.

"The innocent usually are. My little cousin is...was...the sweetest soul I'd ever met. The only one who didn't care that I'd gone evil and tried to destroy the world once. And the only one at times who had faith that I'd be able to survive doing what I'd have to do to fix it. My friends are amazing, and I love them for all they've given to me. But my little cousin never asked for anything from me, except that I do my best."

"That was him. Unassuming. Quiet. Loyal."

"It's sounds like you're describing a puppy."

"Har har. Funny."

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "It called to me. What can I say."

Listening to the running of the water, he stepped forward, feeling the cold water soak into his shoes. "You sound like you've lost some in your past too."

She nodded her head, stepping forward into the river to stand beside him. Reaching out and taking his hand in hers, she gave it a kiss on the back. Looking at her in shock at the familiar gesture between strangers, his features shifted to a more questioning look. 

"It's par for the course in our types of lives. Sometimes it's things like what took Aunt Claudia from Uncle John and Stiles. Sometimes it's a stray bullet in your backyard. And sometimes it's a supernatural occurrence that leaves the purest soul in your life looking out for you, and the world, and doing what they know needs to be done, but we can't...or aren't willing...to accept it."

Hearing as her voice broke describing her zones of loss, he gave her hand a squeeze.

"Sounds like you have more experience than you should for someone your age."

Letting out a barking laugh, she shook her head.

"I think I have a few years on you. But thanks for the compliment."

Turning to look at Derek, she gives him a warm smile. He actually felt it touch somewhere inside.

"Your Pack loves you Derek. I can see why. You are a good man, and you deserve all the happiness the world can bring you. And I know how hard it is now. That it feels like you can only have darkness and sadness. But I can feel you will be happy, and it's okay to be angry that you may feel moments of happiness."

Looking up at the burnt scar on the cliff, she waved a hand. Moss and lichen grew to cover the wound.

"You have lost something very dear to you. And that sucks. It hurts, and it is not fair. But always remember, at your darkest times. Sometimes, even the lost get found."

Giving him a hug, he wrapped his arms around her, and breathed in the smell of magic, and more importantly, the smell of hope he found on the crown of her head.

"You never did tell me your name."

Looking up, with those too familiar eyes. 

"Willow."

Pulling away, she cupped his face in her hands, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. When he opened his eyes, she had disappeared, the gentle coolness from her touch fading into memory. But for the first time, he felt that maybe, he wasn't completely alone in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While it isn't too too relevant for the remainder of "Slipping Through My Fingers," there is a teeny tiny bit of cross over between Teen Wolf and Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the "Future Imperfect" series...because how perfect would it be for Willow and Stiles to be related?


	17. Lose the Night - October 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family isn't always blood. Sometimes it's the one that finds you, and shelters you when you need it most. But what happens when you're at your most vulnerable, and you can't call for help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oblivious Melissa is Oblivious. That will make sense when you've read this chapter. ;-)

The dreams rarely ended the same way since that night back in August when he'd said his goodbyes to his lover's cousin. He'd found solace in her words, and comfort in the knowledge that he wasn't alone in this. While still depressed to be sure, the pain was dying and he was able to start processing through his emotions. While he knew he'd never find a mate again, he was at least at peace with that. He'd found his love, and lost his love, but that was okay. He still had his Pack, and if he couldn't have his mate, then he would stop at nothing to make sure his pack mates never felt the same sting of loss that he had. He'd had pleasant dreams, though not entirely happy.

Until recently.

Laying in bed, locked in a nightmare, he couldn't control his shifting as a result of his dream. Snarling and snapping at the air, he was trapped in his own mind.

The landscape was the woods, as they so often were these days. He'd actually started looking forward to his dreams. At least then he could see Stiles alive and whole. But this one was different. The colours were off, like a storm was moving in and casting a blue haze on everything around them. Stiles' usual smile was conspicuously absent, his inviting eyes were cold and his gaze was hard. Accusing.

"You let go."

Three words that stabbed like a knife in his chest. Looking down, he saw blood on his hands that wasn't there before. Grimacing, he tried to wipe his hands clean, but only succeeded in covering them with soot and ash on top of everything else.

"I tried. I swear I tried."

"It should have been you. I was only a human Derek! I was a human, and I loved you, and when I needed you the most you let me go!"

Stiles spectre turned in the blue light and looked back, his face charring, the flesh flaking away.

"Don't go. Stiles, don't leave me."

A thunderous laugh filled the woods. 

"Go to hell! God knows you deserve it."

In the distance he heard his name being called. Looking around frantically, Stiles was gone, and the woods were being consumed in a fire. He hadn't had this part of the dream since the fire that claimed the majority of his family.

"DEREK!!"

Jerking awake, he barely checked his swing in time to avoid impaling Isaac. His heart was pounding like a jack hammer in his chest, sweat soaked through the bedding. The room stunk of fear. Running his hands through his hair, he looked out the window, the sun coming up through the trees. This wasn't his house. 

Taking another moment to sort out his mind, he remembered coming over to the Stilinski house late at night after John had finished his shift to make dinner, especially since Melissa had drawn the late shift on this rotation. It got late, so John escorted him into Stiles' old room, and he'd curled up with one of Stiles old sweatshirts. 

He'd promised Stiles he take care of his father while he was gone to school. Now, he was just gone, but he made a promise that he intended to keep, come heaven or hell.

Looking at the bedding, most of it was shredded from his claws, but he breathed a sigh of relief that the sweater was untouched. As was the mattress. Those were a shade more expensive to replace.

Through bleary eyes and a voice hoarse from screaming, a few thoughts twitched together. Fixing his gaze on Isaac, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"John called me. He said you were having nightmares last night. Figured I might be able to help, or at least keep you from writing off the room."

Isaac's nightmares had taken years to process out of his head. Stiles' constant talking, it would turn out, was the big push to force Isaac to move through them and come to terms with what had happened to him. The lowly human was responsible for pulling them together as a cohesive group. Werewolves, Hunters, Banshees, and Humans. The visiting Packs would refer to them as the Hale-McCall Pack, but they knew the truth, even if they never said it. It was Stilinski's pack, because without that piece of glue, they would have fallen apart a long time ago. His absense, conspicuous though it was, also galvanized them to stick close together, in order to honour the memory of the slain.

"It was a new one."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Isaac simply nodded his head and took a step to the door.

"Isaac?"

The young man popped his head back in.

"Yeah?"

"How're you sleeping?"

Shrugging his shoulders.

"Not well. I miss him."

Nodding numbly, he leaned back in the pillows on the bed.

"Tell Melissa I'll be down in a minute to help with breakfast. Just...need to get my shit together."

"Whatever you say boss man."

Laying down heavily on the bed, he pulled the sweater to his face and drew in the fading scent of Stiles, trying to find comfort in the inanimate cloth. Wrapping his arms around the garment, he took a few breaths, trying to compose himself before heading downstairs.

***

"How's he doing?"

Melissa's voice was barely above a whisper. Isaac would be able to hear her, but Derek would have some trouble. 

Isaac merely shook his head, eyes down cast, and an invisible weight baring down on his shoulders. As the more sensitive of the group, Isaac was usually a pretty good barometre for how anyone was doing.

"He's getting worse I think. He's had some bad dreams but this is the first absolute nightmare he's had since..."

He let it hang there. It was pretty obvious when the last nightmare was. It took vet grade tranquilizers to keep him calm until the funeral.

"Just keep an eye on him. Scott's coming back in a few days and might try and talk Derek into heading back with him."

Turning to look at the flight of stairs, Derek stood there, looking like he'd gone 10 rounds with a Kanima and lost. 

"Not heading back to L.A."

Melissa sighed, "And why is that Derek. Deucalion's opened his territory to you and you have a place to stay. Scott's said the house is way too big for just him, and until Allison's transfer brings her back next semester...it would be good to take a break."

The look on her face was nothing but concern.

"I'm not leaving here while you're pregnant with Stiles little brother or sister. I failed one of the Stilinski kids. I'm not leaving the next one unprotected."

Melissa's eyebrows pretty well jumped to the back of her head. John, who was listening in from the other room came charging into the room, tripping over the side table, sending his keys, the home phone and his wallet clattering across the kitchen floor.

"What do you mean little brother or sister. Derek. I'm not pregnant."

Derek quirked an eyebrow.

"Really. You haven't gone into menopause, you haven't had a period since August, your skin is taking on a different texture, your pheromone production is strong enough I can smell you a block away, and you've been shielding your stomach a lot more."

Looking at Melissa, then at John, who looked like he was about to have a heartattack, he huffed slightly.

"How do you know when the last time I had a period was?"

She was trying to keep her voice level, but now that she thought about it. In grief she and John may not have taken all the precautions they should have...

"How do you think male werewolves know when the best times of the month are for flowers, chocolate, hot water bottles, midol, or staying the hell away from the house are?"

He tapped the side of his nose.

Melissa shuddered. "Gross."

Isaac chuckled, "You get used to it."

John for his part, merely fainted.


	18. The Wedding, The Witch and the Omen  - Thanksgiving 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some revelations about the Stilinski family lead to some important questions being asked. A friend arrives with a mysterious question.

Everything had been planned short notice, but Derek had opened his house, and the property in Beacon Hills to hold the party, making it part of the deal for him being John's best man.

"I don't understand why you want me to be your best man. You've got family coming in for this. Why not ask one of them?"

John let out a low growl that was impressive for a human. Instinct told him that it came from years of dealing with Stiles' eccentricities. Crossing his arms, he looked a bit intimidating in his uniform now. Since Derek announced Melissa's pregnancy (and the half dozen tests that confirmed it) he'd been putting more of an effort in taking care of himself. He was filling out his uniform quite nicely as Melissa constantly pointed out. Hormones...gotta love them.

"I'm not asking them because they're barely my family at all anymore. I'm sure you noticed a conspicuous lack of them in the summer. Hell. Stiles' cousin from his Mom's side even came in from England on the next flight after I called her just to come for Shiva. His aunt who lives in Nevada was bitching it was too far to come on such short notice. When I say they aren't really my family I mean it."

Derek couldn't really argue the logic in that, but he still shook his head.

"But why me?"

John dropped his arms and his face took a bit of a softer look. Derek recognized that look. It was usually the look he adopted when they were talking about things that were painful for them.

"After Stiles' funeral, when we were back at the house, I thought I heard yelling from the office between you and the others. I got up to investigate and I heard what you had said, about wanting to ask Stiles to marry you before school started in September."

Derek felt himself pale, remembering that day in vivid technicolour.

"I would love to have Stiles here with me as my best man. It'd be very nice having my son here for that. But if I can't have my son, I'd be honoured to have who should have been my son in law stand up for me to make this official. Can you do that for me Son."

Derek felt like his heart was getting crushed in his chest, and he couldn't breathe. Nodding his head, he said with a small, genuine smile. 

"I will. Listen. Don't...worry about a hall rental or anything. I'll hire a cleaner to clean Hale House. It's more than big enough for what we need, and I have a few massive outdoor tents we can set up. It's getting late into the year, but some outdoor heaters can be picked up too."

John opened his mouth to protest.

"Consider it a condition and part of your wedding present."

Closing his mouth, he merely nodded.

"Thanks Son."

"No problem...Dad?"

John's eyes glazed over for a second, before he pulled Derek into a bone crushing hug. Derek had to check his strength to make sure he didn't make the return one quite literally a bone crushing hug.

***

The wedding was a bit of a blur, but it was a small affair. They'd chosen to have it done over thanksgiving weekend as everyone would be back, so no special trips were required for anyone intending on attending.

On Melissa's side, she had Scott stand up as her Man of Honour (he'd shot poisonous glares whenever he was called the Maid of Honour), with Allison, and Lydia rounding out the remainder of the bride's party. On John's side, given how small and distant his family was, he'd selected Derek as his best man, with Isaac and Jackson rounding out his party. 

Most of Melissa's extended family made the effort for the trip, including her ex-husband. John's family was few and far between, but a couple of his cousins had made the trip. A good number of his late wife's family had come to show their support for the couple as well. It was well known that John had loved Claudia, and he still did. Melissa knew she wasn't competing with a ghost. The Rosenburg family had been quite welcoming to her as well, adopting her, in a sense, into the family as well.

Melissa looked a vision in ivory, the skirt stopping at her ankles, the stomach roomy for the now obvious little bump that definitely only meant one thing. Her hair was tied back in a complicated braid that Derek suspected Willow had spelled into existence because no human hands could move that deftly (he'd had a few sisters okay? He knew about braids) with the thick locks Melissa was blessed with. 

John was dressed smartly in a black suit that had been purchased for this occasion. His tie and handkerchief were matched perfectly to Melissa's dress. The Groomsmen, and Scott were dressed in variations of the same suit, but their ties had been colour matched to their eyes when they were shifted. How Melissa had managed to find those vibrant colours, he'd never know. 

Standing back and watching the events almost like an observer, he felt a faint smile on his face that hadn't been there for a long time. He did a good thing today, and in everything he did to help make today happen. The smile fluttered a bit when the nagging voice in the back of his head told him he didn't deserve to be happy given what he'd lost, but seeing the look of absolute joy on everyone's faces, he managed to find it in him to tell the voice to shut up for the night. 

Smelling a person who carried a strong elemental smell, he made a show of sniffing the air.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

Hearing a chuckle just behind him, he looked in shock at the punch he received on the shoulder.

"You're looking in better spirits than last time I saw you."

"We'd just buried an empty box signifying my soul mate's passing. I think I was allowed to be a little out of it."

"That's fair. But still. You look...not as broody which given everything that's going on, is about the best that can be hoped for."

Derek merely shrugs. Today is a one off day where he's got something else to occupy his mind.

Looking back at the tent, he nodded at a few of the people that came with Willow to the wedding, and were now mingling with the remains of his pack.

"Interesting group of friends you have. Didn't expect to see another Hunter besides the Argents show up. I can count on her playing nice?"

"Hunter?"

"The blonde."

"OH! You mean Buffy?"

Catching Derek's incredulous look at her name.

"She's from L.A. originally," as if that explained it all. Which is pretty well did. "No. Buffy's not a Hunter in the strictest sense of the word. She's a Slayer. Specializes in demonic stuff. Werewolves, Banshees, Witches, those she's pretty cool with as long as they aren't trying to kill her."

Filing that away for later, Derek merely nodded his head. "Still don't think I want to risk getting on her bad side."

"Usually safest. Buffy's a Slayer, and Xander, the guy with the eye patch, would be our human. He's been my best friend since we were kids. Also rounding out the group is Dawn, Buffy's sister and a being of magical nature. I'm disappointed not more of Uncle John's family showed up but I'm not surprised. Not many came to Aunt Claudia's funeral because we did it traditional Jewish style."

Derek growled a little at that. Even Deucalion had come up for the wedding. He was actually engaged in a pretty serious conversation with Buffy, and from the sounds of things, it centred around vampire hunting in the downtown of LA. Definitely mixed company, but it seemed fitting. 

"Derek. Does the White Wolf of the Woods mean anything to you?"

At that, Derek smirked. "It's a story that most werewolves hear when they're pups. Mom was fond of telling it to us when I was growing up. Cora wouldn't settle for the night unless she'd been told the story when she was a baby. Why?"

Willow shrugged and shook her head.

"The Seer of a coven I used to live in gave me a call before we were heading out for the wedding and told me to tell the 'Sour-Wolf' that the White Wolf of the Woods was coming for him. It didn't make any sense to her, and I'm drawing a blank, but if this is one of those werewolf only stories then that would explain the vagueness of the message for both of us. What's the relevance?"

Derek's brow knitted together while he tried to remember the story. He'd loved it himself as a child but it had been years since he'd heard it, let alone been asked about it. 

"If my memory serves, and it's been a while so forgive me if I'm wrong, but the White Wolf would only come to those who were pure and believed, and he or she would have their soul's greatest wish fulfilled."

"Werewolf Santa?"

"Werewolf Santa. Mostly a way to keep the kids in line until they were old enough to be given proper grief for their stupidity."

Willow laughed at that.

"First hand experience?"

Derek looked at her from the corner of his eye, and winked. 

"I'll never tell."

Giving him a one arm hug, she sighed.

"Hopefully it's a good omen for you. Getting news like that at a wedding. That's gotta be a good sign."

Taking a glass of champagne as one of the servers passed by, he took a sip and shrugged.

"I've given up on good news for me Willow. I let the one person who knew my soul better than I do slip from my hand when he needed me the most. I don't deserve good things."

Willow looked up at him in shock as he spoke, so cavalier about the words coming from his mouth.

"I'm a monster. And monsters don't get happy endings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually working on a short story based on the White Wolf of the Woods, but it's not going so well. LOL. I assure you, if I end up writing it, a fluff piece will follow. LOL.
> 
> And it's pretty safe to say that I'm going to figure out a way to make the BtVS universe and this one meld.


	19. Disconnect - January 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A standing lunch date leads to the formation of an important decision.

Standing at the peak of Beacon's Bluff, Derek wrapped himself tighter in his heavier leather jacket. There was a chill in the air, and not just because it was the winter. He'd felt the surge of magic starting again, and knew there was something coming. The surges were getting more and more spaced out, so Deaton's theory that this was a ripple effect from what had happened with the Nemeton and the Darach was looking more and more accurate. The timing and the spacing both before and after that night seem to be consistent.

He thought anyway.

Stiles would know that better than anyone. 

Sighing, he trudged through the woods, feet following a well worn path of patrol he had made, keeping the woods clear of anything that would cause trouble. He'd failed that task last year, allowing the Cherufe to make her appearance at all. Reaching into his pocket, he felt something wedged in there. Pulling it out, he recognized it as a napkin from the bar where he and Stiles had shared their first kiss. Opening it, he recognized Stiles' messy scrawl. 

"Mr. Stiles Hale. Mr. Stiles Hale-Stilinski."

The one with the hyphen was circled and if he looked closely enough, Derek was pretty sure he could see little hearts drawn around it. 

Tears immediately welling up in his eyes, he folded the napkin and tucked it away like it was the most precious thing in the universe. He'd vaguely remembered losing this jacket shortly after he and Stiles had made it official that they were dating. Stiles must have taken it, and snuck it back on one of his visits home. 

Tilting his head back, he let out a low, mournful howl which was answered by another in the distance. Probably Scott. Checking his watch, he was running behind. He was going to meet Melissa at the hospital and take her for lunch. 6 months pregnant and working like a mad woman. But, she wasn't complaining, and this baby was quite healthy, so there were no concerns. He enjoyed his lunches with Melissa because she didn't push him to smile, be nice, or be friendly. He could help alleviate some of the discomfort of the pregnancy, but only under the condition that she'd already spoken to her doctor about what was causing the discomfort. She'd enjoyed lower than normal stress this time around thanks to having a Werewolf guardian angel. 

Emerging from the woods near the hospital, he looked to the grey sky with annoyance. He and Stiles had talked about doing a trip up north to go skiing this winter. Or just staying in and enjoying the snow. Not just snow on the mountain, but snow in town too. Basically, they were looking to go somewhere cold and use that as an excuse to not leave their hotel room for two weeks. With the grey sky...

"There should be snow," he grumbled as he put on his less moody face and entered the hospital.

It didn't take much to find Scott's Mom in the sea of nurses. The half tied up hair, the bright purple scrubs, and the overwhelming scent of sugar and cedar that seemed to accompany her everywhere served as a beacon to his nose. Smiling a small, honest smile, he purposefully jangled his keys so he wouldn't be accused to sneaking up on her. Last time he did that, he'd ended up with a needle full of demerol in his thigh, and spent the next 15 minutes waiting for his system to process out the drug so he could actually drive. It turns out that after a few experiences with being kidnapped, Melissa had taken to arming herself with whatever medications she could. Deucalion had sent her the instructions on how to modify an epi-pen so she wouldn't be carrying around syringes all the time.

"Just give me a minute Derek and we'll be good to go."

She hadn't turned around, but the clinkinging of the keys must have been a sign.

"You stepped in deer shit too by the way."

Or, her heightened sense of smell that sometimes goes with pregnancy seemed to be working today. Looking at the bottom of his boots, he felt his lip twitch. They were perfectly clean. 

Looking up to see the wry smile on her face, he merely deadpans. "Har har. Funny lady."

Giving him a cheeky little grin, she chuckled and shrugged, "I have my moments. Just have to grab my jacket and I'm ready to go."

Reaching across the desk, he grabbed her coat for her and held it so she could slip it on. He wasn't entirely sure why he was being so polite. Normally he walked around like a wolf with a hang over, but something about helping Melissa while she was pregnant, made him remember what it was like helping Talia when he was a child, and she'd been carrying Cora.

Resting his hand on her neck, he absorbs some of the tension in her back. Hearing her sigh in relief, he smiled. His father had done the same thing for his Mom. Hell. Uncle Peter even helped out like that from time to time.

"So. Any thoughts on what you're going to be naming her when she's born?"

Melissa shook her head a bit forlornly. "We had every kind of idea if it was a boy, but since we're having a girl...I mean. I don't know what to do with a girl. I don't exactly come from Girly-Girl stock. I was thinking Laura thoug."

She felt Derek shift a little uncomfortably at that.

"If that's okay of course."

In truth, he'd had the image of having his own little Laura running around. Not that he'd told anyone. Of course, now that was a moot point, so why not let go of the fantasy, as he'd let go of so many other things. He was just...letting things fall. Other people seemed to be picking them up, so over all, there wouldn't be much of an impact he guessed.

"I think that's a fantastic idea."  
 He genuinely did. Following her out to her car, his being left back at the house, he climbed in the passenger seat and settled in for the drive. She had an extended lunch, so they were heading to Beacon Valley to one of their "Open Every Day" delis. 

Allowing the silence to fill the car, Melissa cast a cautious glance at him as she pulled into traffic. Well. Such as it was. It was New Years day. Most people were still nursing their hangovers. Placing a hand on the back of Derek's, she kept her eyes on the road, but said in a gentle voice.

"We missed you last night."

Shifting around a little in the seat. Old Derek would have been angry at the presumptive intrusion on his time and the prying into his activities a statement like that would imply. The "Dating Stiles" Derek would have probably just sighed, apologized, and made a genuine effort to be more social. But withdrawn Derek...just sat there for a minute.

"I didn't want to intrude. I had to do a patrol through the woods. With the Pack gone most of the time, the woods aren't as defended as they should be."

Sighing a little in frustration, she nodded her head.

"John's said that he hasn't seen you much since the wedding."

"I don't want to..."

"Intrude. You said that already. Jesus Derek. You're not intruding. You are welcome to live in our home for as long as you need or want. Or you can live in your house. Or you can live in LA, or New York or anywhere, but don't make us wonder and worry about where you're spending your nights!"

The outburst was so out of character for her that Derek actually looked apologetic. 

"I'm sorry. I'll come by more often. I promise."

"Well...good."

She was expecting a bit more of a fight from him to be honest, but she wasn't about to toss away a victory.

"What about Melody?"

Melissa raised an eyebrow.

"For her middle name. What about Melody?"

A small smile crept on her face.

"I like that. Laura Melody Stilinski. I think I like that a lot."

Derek looked out the window at the grey landscape.

"There should be snow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block kicked my ass for most of this chapter. The passing of a family member also was a factor. I will probably re-work some of this chapter later, but I needed to get this out. I DO love the name I came up with for Baby though. :-)


	20. Reconnecting Lines - April 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hospital is under attack, the Pack is separated defending those who remain. The Sheriff is in the heart of the action...and Derek is wearing scrubs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little lighter fare than this morning's offering.

Somehow they'd been able to empty the hospital of pretty much all the patients and staff. A phone call from Willow had revealed some ancient prophesy was slated to take place in Beacon Hills on the site the hospital was built, and it was going to be disasterous. They'd cleared out nearly everyone, and those who couldn't move out were placed in areas that could be defended mystically. 

This meant, because the universe was wacky this way, that Melissa Stilinski was in one of the defended rooms because she'd gone in to help with clearing out the people, when her water broke all over Derek's feet. Her labour came hard and fast, and she could not be evacuated with the others. Derek stayed in the room with her, trapped in a wide circle of mountain ash mixed with silver filings. The ash was to keep him from being influenced by what was outside the door. The silver was to keep whatever was outside the door on the outside of the door. 

"Just breathe Melissa. Just breathe."

Of course her Doctor had to be in the FIRST group to be evacuated. He was skyped in, but that didn't eliminate the fact that Derek was the one in the blue scrubs and gown...or the fact the power had been taken out shortly after the Doc had given them a run down on what to do. The Sheriff was on the other side of the hospital probably unleashing holy hell on the Hellbeasts that were redecorating the trauma ward trying to summon some under demon to destroy some...thing. Scott was providing support to his step dad. Lydia was monitoring everything from security. Jackson, Isaac and Cora were all doing the clean up.

He'd rather be facing down the monsters than the human about to give birth.

"Okay. Okay. We can do this. Just breathe Melissa."

"You already SAID THAT!!!!!"

The scream from her throat was somewhat reminiscent of the low growl an Alpha had when trying to intimidate its enemy. Feeling the wolf in him shrink away from the threat, he took a breath and tried to calm himself. He was about to get a lot more up close and personal with Melissa than he ever had any intention of witnessing.

"Okay. I'm going to take a look and see how things are progressing."

Hopefully everything was showing that he'd have the hour it would take for her doctor to return. 

Lifting up the sheet, his eyes went wide, and he went very very pale. 

He didn't have an hour.

He'd be lucky if they had 10 minutes.

"You're already crowning Melissa. I can see the top of the baby's head. Just...follow your instincts Melissa. You've got this and you can do it. I'll catch Laura, but you have to trust yourself to know what you're doing."

He rested his hands on either side of her hips, drawing away as much of the pain as he could so she could focus.

Looking up, she was shaking her head.

"I don't know what to do Derek. I can't..."

"You can. You're strong. You're a woman and that makes you the strongest entity out there. You're a mother, and about to be a mother again."

He vaguely remembered his dad giving his mom this speech when she was having Cora. Talia was full Alpha by then, but the reassurances of her loved ones while welcoming a new bundle of life into the world helped her override her concern, and push the squalling pain in the neck that was his baby sister into the world.

"You're an Alpha Melissa. You know what to do. Stop thinking about it and just do it."

He'd never be a doctor with that bed side manner, but feeling the way she was contracting and about to bare down, with a scream that echoed down the empty halls, there was a high pitched shuddering gasp, followed by the hearty cry of a very healthy baby girl.

Holding her close, Derek gently scooped out her mouth and nose and gave the baby a quick wipe down before placing her in her Mother's waiting arms. Grinning from ear to ear, he took a step back, trying to remember what the doctors said about after the baby was delivered. He knew not to cut the cord or anything, and the placenta would be making its appearance soon, but standing back, seeing the babe wrapped safely in her Mom's arms, he felt the tears on his cheeks before he even was aware he was crying. 

Wiping his eyes, he saw the lights flickering back on, and heard the thunder of footsteps coming towards the delivery room. Claws coming out, and fangs sprouting, he positioned himself in the circle, nearest the door, so he could fight without risking Melissa. Upon seeing the arrival of Scott and John, he relaxed. John broke the circle with his foot, so Scott could join them. 

Feeling himself getting pulled back to the bed side, and enveloped in the warmth of the circle, he stood on the side nearest Laura, feeling oddly protective of the squacking infant who was trying to latch to start feeding. Scott pulled him into a bone crushing hug, scent of blood fading as the wounds healed, all but panting from excitement.  
 "Thank you Derek. Thank you so much for taking care of my Mom and Sister."

Looking over his shoulder to see Melissa whispering in John's ear, the Sheriff's eyes alive with tears of joy, he nodded his head, running his hand gingerly over the baby's skull, his other cupping Melissa's face. Pressing a kiss to his wife's lips, then kissing his daughter, he straightened up.

"Derek. I...we...that is to say I...we..."

He was utterly flustered. This had been a rather busy 12 hours and his mind was getting caught up to everything.

"We were wondering if you would be Laura's Godfather. You safely delivered her into this world and were ready to rip the face off anything that breached that door that would hurt her or her mother. We can't think of anyone we'd rather have in her corner."

Derek's grin upgraded to a full on smile.

"I'd be honoured."

Reaching out with a deceptively gentle touch, he brushed a thumb across her cheek.

"Welcome to the world Laura Melody Stilinski."

Scott and John exchanged a look of shock. Neither of them had known what Melissa and Derek had decided on. Outside the delivery room, Jackson, Cora and Isaac lined up, waiting to come in and say their hellos, and also to report that the hospital was cleared. Cora's eyes softened at the mention of Laura's name. Circling around the bed, Melissa looked up at her family, and knew then and there that Little Laura would never have to be afraid of what went bump in the night.

***

Across the county, two figures stumbled in the darkness, one holding a flask, the other holding a small pebble. Stumbling over rocks and roots, they reached the river bank, where magically grown moss and vines hid the damage done 10 months ago.

"This is where it was?"

"Yup. This is where it happened."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay. Let's do this and go. This place gives me the creeps."

"It smells of magic."

"It smells of Her magic."

"That's a good thing though."

The young man nodded his head. "Be that as it may, I'd rather not cross her. Her moods are fickle and when you mess with Hers."

They collectively shuddered.

"Okay. Let's do this."

In a coordinated gesture, one of them threw their pebble into the water, the other threw the flask. In a blink and you miss it scatter of light on the water, the hushed sounds of the woods at night flowed back into the area.

"And now we wait."

"But not hear."

"Oh hell no. I'm not getting eaten alive by mosquitos."

"Isn't it too early for those?"

"Oh do shut up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish I could draw. I'd squee at the sight of our Sour-Wolf in scrubs holding a little tiny baby...


	21. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the space between breaths and the time between thoughts, there exists an entire world that is outside looking in. Decisions are made. Consensus achieved. Actions begin again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I was stone cold sober when I wrote this. 
> 
> It WILL make sense at the end.

The background was always the same. Indistinct white shapes superimposed on an all white landscape. There was no definitive light source, no shadows and the only thing that marked "down" was the universal acceptance that "down" was where your feet were. The first person to arrive was always the ear mark for it, as it had been before, in the now, and in the when. In this realm, thought and form were one and the same, and it was rare that those designated to this realm in their generation appeared in their normal form. It was even more rare for those to appear here would be of the same generation, unless there was a point in time that needed resolution by concensus.

"We have not agreed on a course of action yet."

"The fact is that this may be moot."

"And yet it could be relevant."

"It could be everything."

"Or nothing."

"But we are at least agreed on one thing."

"And that is?"

"That IT is."

A feeling of agreement slipped through the realm.

"Free will."

"Is preserved."

"But circumvented in some cases."

"In one case."

"In one instance."

"We agree."

"As do we all."

A hushed whisper threaded through the group. The shapes were indistinct, though in truth they knew each other, but rarely acknowledged each other outside of this realm.

"So it must happen."

"The balance is thrown."

"It will be restored."

"We tried that once."

"It was not enough."

"It was not here."

"It worked in so far as it was able. The scope was too skewed."

"Errors were made."

"But are we sure of This?"

"This is why we created That."

"Is That the answer."

"Was This?"

A feeling of discontent flowed through the group.

"It was in error."

"It was a mistake."

"It made its choice."

"It decided That before This."

"And here we are."

"Do we?"

"We do."

"Then we have consensus."

 "Will we remember?"

"We will sense."

"Are we sure?"

Silence filled the void. One lone voice spoke up.

"We are."

The indistinct figures faded one by one until the last lone voice remained.

"We must."

And then, that voice too was lost to the mist.


	22. Sometimes the Lost Get Found - June 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd been told before, and sometimes actions speak louder than words.
> 
> They'd lost him. 
> 
> But sometimes the lost get found.

It was hard to believe that a year had come and gone so quickly. Some measures of it were a blur. Some measures dragged on for an eternity. Everything had shifted only 2 months ago for him though. He'd turned an important corner, and instead of seeing a lifetime of loneliness, he'd found a family eager to take him in. His Pack had stayed strong, and they came to face the demon together. Human, Werewolf, and Banshee. Looking down the path through the woods that lead to the river, he heard the gurgling coo of his god daughter in the all terrain stroller he'd insisted on spending too much money on so they could all go for a walk in the woods.

Never straying far from Little Laura, ever on alert for anything that may threaten her (dust bunnies beware) he felt a shiver down his spine as they came to the river bank. Stopping at the river bank, he turned and looked at those who had joined him for today's walk. Melissa and John (who was pushing the over priced stroller), Lydia, Jackson, Cora and Deaton, Chris, Isaac, Danny, Ethan (who had only just heard about Stiles and came to pay his respects), Scott, Allison and even Uncle Peter. The entirety of his Pack. His family.

Pulling out a well worn piece of paper from his back pocket, he huffed a little in frustration with himself. At Stiles' funeral, he'd been too chicken to say more than a few words. He didn't trust his voice. Every morning when he woke up, he drew the paper out from his pocket, re-read the tear smudged words, and felt the ache in his chest that told him, he wasn't ready to share this part with anyone. This morning he woke up from a dead sleep in the rocking chair in Laura's room, little one curled up in his arms. Pulling out the paper with her cuddled against his chest, he read it. He read it again. He read it a third time. Today. He was ready for this today.

"Thank you everyone for coming with me today. Today, of all days, is not an easy one. Today's the day we lost Stiles...today's the day I lost the other half of myself. And if I am going to be completely honest, I did not expect to live to see today. Fortunately for me, I have people in my corner who would not leave me alone long enough to give in to the darkness, and who, like Stiles did, held my head above water when I couldn't do it for myself."

Pausing, he looked down at the piece of paper in his hand.

"I don't know when it was that I fell in love with Stiles. I've thought about it, and I've never been able to pin point it. When I met him, I was damaged beyond belief. I hated the world. I'd lost my older sister, and I didn't know my younger sister was still alive. I had a chip on my shoulder that weighed a thousand pounds, and I had no interest in throwing it off. Stiles wouldn't let me get away with that. At all. He called me on my bullshit from day one, and it pissed me RIGHT off. He was always so...happy. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand him. And I knew I couldn't let anything bad happen to him.

"He won me over. Slowly. But he did. He brought back my humanity. He brought back my smile. He was my moral compass when I went off track, and he never judged me when I stumbled and fell. He became more important to me by inches more than yards. He got into my head, and moved into my heart.

"He would often ask, after he thought I'd fallen asleep, what he did to deserve me. But the question really is, what did I do to deserve him. He loved me, with his whole being. He'd often joke that he was merely human, but he was the strongest person I have ever known. His body was human, but his spirit...his very being...was beyond words. We lost a good man here. But, I know, looking at eveyone here, that he isn't really gone. And now, every day when I look in his little sister's eyes, I know that he's never far. He's still in my heart."

His voice cracked a little.

"He's still in my heart, and he's still in my head. And I love him."

Bringing a hand to his face, he turns around and looks at the stillness of the river. Sniffing softly, he looks up into the midday sun and felt a collection of hands reach out to him, to encircle him, and to engulf him. Initially he was so isolate this would feel claustrophobic, but now, he let their touches and embraces hold him together. Leaning on them wasn't a weakness, like he'd convinced himself last year. It was another form of strength that Stiles had taught him.

Opening his eyes, he felt his brow draw together. Seeing a puff of smoke forming over the river, in thin air, the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention.

"Isaac, Jackson, Ethan and Danny. Get John, Melissa and Laura out of here. Cora and Peter, watch their 6."

The air took on the cloying stench of sulphur and heated steel. Sparing a glance behind him, the wolves (and Danny) he had given the orders to had fled with the precious cargo. Looking at Deaton, who had something in his hand, he felt his fangs elongate, his brow thicken, his ears lengthen, and his claws extend. Allison had a gun in her hand, Scott's wolf was fully deployed, Chris was handing Lydia a small hand gun, but he knew from experience it wasn't just a 4 bullet special. 

Inching away from the edge of the river, the puff of smoke turned into a full fledged fire. Tumbling through the Hell portal, it took him a moment to realize who it was.

"You!"

Dropping into a crouch, he saw as the petite woman straightened up, looking startled, to put it mildly. Heat rolled off her skin, stone talons still extended. But there was a different look to her. She wasn't emitting flame. She wasn't putting out extreme heat. She had the wicked claws, but she smelled.

"Human."

That levelled the playing field by a whole lot.

Cherie looked at those who were circling her, snarling like a feral creature. When Allison and Chris shot at her, she spun out of the way, deflecting a few of the bullets with the claws, but the one that grazed her left arm had a line of blood follow it. Looking at her injury, she looked at the others, hissing. She had lost her mind. Lunging forward, she took a swipe at Derek who flipped effortlessly out of the way. She spun again, making contact with Scott's chest, ripping great chunks of flesh, causing him to drop to the ground almost unconscious. 

Deaton threw the fist full of powder at Cherie, though it was barely a deterant. She was human, not demonic, despite the nasty manicure.

Lydia for her part circled around to where Scott was laying prone on the ground. Pulling back his shirt, the cuts weren't healing. Not quickly at anyrate.

"He isn't healing. Watch her claws."

Chris threw his set of truck keys to her.

"Grab my truck and bring it up the trail. We'll meet you as far in as we can."

Turning his attention back to the task at hand he narrowly avoided losing his head. Tucking and rolling, he fired a shot that caught Cheri mid thigh. She spun around, taking Derek by surprise, slicing through his chest.

Falling to the ground, she looked behind the assorted people who were remained. Laughing an insane little laugh.

"None of you can do it..."

A single gun shot rang out from behind them, catching her squarely between the eyes. Derek dropped to his knees, looking in the direction of the gun shot. A look of utter confusion crossed his face.

"Stiles?"

The lanky young man crossed the 30 feet separating them in a few quick strides, pressing his hands to the wounds on Derek's chest, rubbing the sweat off his forehead. He looked...immaculate. 

"Stiles?"

"Yeah Baby." Stiles was pale, brow knotted in concern.

"I killed you."

With that, Derek's eyes rolled in the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...do I keep working on the next chapter tonight...or be evil and make people wait...


	23. Full Circle - June 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would you do for the person you loved? What lengths would you go to? Where would you draw the line.

The rush to the truck had been a blur. Half formed questions dutifully ignored until they were out of the woods and on their way to the Vet clinic. A vague text message telling John and the rest to stay indoors, and maybe just maybe call in some reinforcements to bolster their defensive lines. It was an uncertain time and without giving away details, they were trying their best to keep the others calm without inviting too many questions, and trying to answer their already existing questions in such a way that it didn't raise any suspicion.

"Why isn't he healing?"

"He's unconscious. His wounds won't heal as quickly while he's unconscious."

"He wasn't even hit in the head Deaton. He wasn't hit as hard as Scott. Scott's awake. Derek. Not so much."

The ordinarily passive Druid curbed his annoyance with Stiles as Lydia drove like a bat out of hell from the forest. Merely settling with an annoyed glare, he shook his head.

"He's getting through an emotional shock that almost drove him to suicide. The physical trauma is secondary to that. He's carried the guilt of letting go of your hand for a year. Seeing you alive and well...is going to take some getting used to."

Stiles looked at Derek, hands clenched over the wound on his lover's chest. Whispering miserably, "You didn't kill me. I let go."

The silence was palpable.

"I had to let go if I was going to save your life."

His voice was low and sounded more than a little lost. "A year?"

They let the question hang there. There was more than a little anger in the truck. There was relief that he was here. Asking questions. Breathing. Staunching the bleeding. There was anger. That he'd left. Disappeared.

Died.

"Why isn't he waking up."

"I don't know Stiles. He's not waking up. He's not healing. He's shut down. You don't know what he went through when you disappeared. It's possible this is the thing that pushed him over the edge. He's in his mind and we can't reach him."

"I feel him."

Deaton's head looked up at him with an unusual degree of focus.

"In my head. I feel him. It's like he's just out of reach."

Deaton looked over his shoulder at Scott.

"Like you and Peter?"

Scott weakly shrugged his shoulders, wincing in pain. "I don't know what Stiles is feeling, but I can sense when Peter's around because he bit me. Even if he's a Beta now, he was an Alpha when he bit me so I know where he is all the time."

A calculating look crossed Deaton's eyes. Looking through the windshield, he saw the vet's office in the distance.

"The Bite..."

"But Derek's already a werewolf."

"But you aren't."

Stiles head whipped up.

"Do it."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Will it help Derek?"

"It might. Or it could kill you. For real this time."

Stiles shook his head.

"That isn't an option. What are you thinking Deaton. Time's a wastin'."

Deaton sighed.  
 "There is an automatic bond that forms when someone is bitten. The mixing of blood creates a link that transcends what we know of the normal world. Between Alpha and Beta it lets them know where each other is at all times. You can ignore it, like Scott and Peter do, but it's there in a heartbeat if you need it.

"That being said, you can also communicate through that link in a way that defies conventional language. In a way that defies time. Do you remember what it was like when you were in the ritual sacrifice to find your Dad?"

Stiles merely nodded his head.

"Five minutes in there was hours out here. But it can be the other way around as well. You can spend hours with him in there and spend minutes out here."

"So what do I do? He's bleeding pretty profusely right now. Just...take a drink?"

Deaton shook his head, "No. There has to be a bite and a mingling of blood. Do you have any cuts in your mouth. Bit your tongue?"

Stiles grabs a knife out of the holster he knows Allison's father always has at the nape of the neck. Cutting a line down the middle of his tongue, he rocks slightly as the truck comes to a half outside the vet's office.

"Now what?"

"Help me get them inside. I want to seal us off and put up a protection ward. Are you sure this is the path you want to take?"

From the look Stiles gave him, Deaton leapt out of the back and began setting things up. Helping Scott who was at least ambulatory into the clinic and setting him on one of the stainless steel tables that had served as a gurney more than a few times, Stiles went back out to the truck and pulled Derek into the building in a firemen's carry. Adrenaline was a fantastic thing. 

"Put him on the table, head lined up with Scott's feet."

Without even looking over his shoulder, Deaton said, "Just trust me. Are you absolutely positive?"

Stiles glared at he vet and did as was requested.

"There are a few different way to create a werewolf," Deaton explained in that infuriatingly calm manner he had possessed for as long as they knew him. 

"First is the natural way," he pulled out a black satchel and opened the drawstrings. Tracing a rune representing parents on Derek's chest, the ash was oily and did not flake away. The candle above Derek's head lit after the rune flashed. 

“Second, is a bite, commonly born from rage," he drew the rune for rage on Scott's chest. The candle below Scott's feet lit after his rune flashed. 

"And the third, also a bite, but less frequently, born from love. Now Stiles...are you sure you want to do this?"

Stiles looked at the Druid, his face a mask of pain and fear. The tears dried, after having run their tracks through the blood on his face. Derek's blood. 

"The only person I love...could ever love, is dying because he thought he killed me. You ask me if I'm sure again..."

Deaton, with a pained look, only nodded his head. Drawing the rune to represent love on Stiles' chest, the last of the candles ignited, casting away the shadows from the corners of the room. A circle flashed to life, held by the dust of the mountain ash, made stronger with the intent in Stiles, and fortified with the three runes that were glowing within.

"You'll have to do it Stiles. He's too weak," Scott all but croaked, flesh still knitting together. Slowly, to be sure, but he was out of the woods. 

Getting up, Stiles crossed the three steps to where He lay, cold as the grave, and just as pale.

"You son of a bitch...this isn't how I pictured this."

Kissing Derek's shoulder softly, he opened his mouth and bit down.

Taking a long draught of blood, making sure he pushed it around the cut on his tongue, he swallowed down what tasted like a mouthful of siding nails.

"How will we know if this works?"

As the question left his mouth, Stiles collapsed on top of Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. The story isn't done. 
> 
> Yet.


	24. Elsewhere - June 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the final death of the Cherufe, and Stiles giving Derek the Bite, they learn there is a price to be paid for all of their actions.
> 
> Some prices are worth paying.

The hammock had been set up in the living room, taking the space the overstuffed couch usually did. The fire was crackling in the fireplace as they dozed the day away. Stiles and Derek were wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, Derek's face resolutely buried in the crook of Stiles neck, so he wouldn't have to see the fire, and the the sound was muffled by the steady beating of Stiles' heart. What Derek would never confess was that he still tensed up around fire when it was indoors. Even if it were contained. But since Stiles had said he'd love to curl up in a hammock beside a roaring fire, that's what they did.

"It's nice in here."

Stiles raised an eye brow, feeling the liquidy warmth draw him back down so all he could do was mutter, "Mmhmm."

Looking to the window where what looked like a wind storm had kicked up blowing the piles of leaves they never ended up bagging into the air.

"We need to get going Derek."

Hearing a grumble of annoyance.

"Don't want to."

"We have to."

Derek let out a warning growl. It wasn't an angry growl either. It ended with a bit of a whine. He was afraid.

"Don't want to go out there."

Running a soothing hand down Derek's back, revelling in the way the muscles responded. In the back of his mind he knew this wasn't real. It was a construct of the mind. But for a few minutes, he didn't care. He could feel every line he'd memorized in their too few nights together. He could feel the warmth coming from his mate's skin. He could smell the light smell of shampoo and forest that he'd come to associate with Derek over their courtship. 

"Why don't you want to go out there Derek."

He had a feeling Derek only thought this was a dream. A dream that was killing him.

"Because. When I leave the house...you're not there."

Burying himself into Stiles' chest, the younger man felt tears prickle at the edge of his eyes.

"I'm sorry Derek. I never should have left you."

"I killed you."

"You didn't."

"My hand slipped."

There was a silence, punctuated by the crackling of the wood.

"I let go."

That wasn't the answer he was expecting. Head whipping up, Derek took in Stiles' face, expression telegraphing that he'd expected an accusation from Stiles. Certainly not a vindication. And certainly not THAT vindication.

"I let go, because I had to save you Derek. I didn't have long to act, so I took my chance and I let go."

Derek pulled back, looking down at his naked body. Stiles took in the expansive area of Derek's chest, trailing his eyes down the abs he had claimed with mouth and teeth and touch. Feeling Derek pull away, wrapped in a blanket, Stiles watched him pace to the window. Wrapping himself up, he crawled off the hammock and followed a few steps behind.

"You should be accusing me of killing you."

Stiles looked like he'd been struck in the face.

"That's what you always say."

"You didn't."

"You should be telling me I belong in hell."

"I..."

Derek looked over his shoulder, with tears in his eyes.

"I've been living in hell since I let go."

Stiles crossed the distance, wiping the tears that were flowing from Derek's eye, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, followed by kissing away his tears.   
"I'm sorry Derek. I'm so so sorry. But you didn't let go. The Cherufe needed a sacrifice and I was it. I sacrificed myself to save you. To save the town. We didn't have time..."

"What's that out there?"

Stiles felt his words die in his throat. Behind the house, the darkened woods swayed with the storm that was moving in. 

"That wasn't there before."

Suddenly finding himself dressed in his usual plaid and blue jeans, he followed Derek to the door.

"Don't come out...you always disappear when you try to come out."

Stiles tentatively reached through the door frame, trying to block the sight of Derek's panicked face from burning into his memory. His hand was still there. Derek came back to the door and reached out tentatively, lacing his fingers with Stiles', feeling that they weren't fading. Tentatively taking a step back, Stiles followed through the door, just as solid as anything in this reality was. Moving towards the woods, he squinted his eyes to avoid letting much dust in them. This was a dreamscape, but it still hurt.

Seeing a flash of light and fur in the woods, he felt Derek tense in his hand. Hearing the heavy movement in the dried leaves behind them, he turned around and looked. 

"Uh...Derek..."

Pulling Derek around to look at what was, just seconds ago, in the woods. A wolf, with fur so white it practically glowed under the flashes of moonlight. 

Saying through an awe filled whisper, "The White Wolf of the Woods," Derek released his hold on Stiles' hand, and crouched down, dipping his head in a submissive gesture.

Stiles was, understandably, confused.

"What does he want?"

The wolf's ear twitched a little and looked up at Stiles, tongue lolling out of it's mouth like an overgrown puppy. An overgrown puppy with razor sharp teeth. But an overgrown puppy nevertheless. 

"Legend has it, it will bring you what your soul longs for, if you're pure of heart, and believe."

Stiles smiled at that. "Werewolf Santa Claus?"

"Werewolf Santa Claus. You know. Your cousin said the same thing. Only problem is one thing."

"What's that?"

Derek looked him squarely in the eyes.

"You're dead, and this is only a dream."

Stiles eyebrow twitched a little.

"You're at least half right in that assessment."

Looking at the Wolf, Stiles reached out to touch it. Drawing his hand back at the nip he'd received, he winced looking down at his hand. The White Wolf's ears drew back, lips curled as it growled at Stiles. Derek's look of panic was brief, before he threw himself bodily at the wolf...only to be rewarded with a mouthful of twigs and dirt. He'd passed right through the ethereal creature's body.

Stiles for his part took a few tentative steps back, before stopping. Without knowing what bid him to do it, he sunk to his knees, so he was eye level with the wolf. The wolf's green eyes shifted slightly to match his in colour. Looking at Derek who was getting tentatively to his feet, he smiled.

"I think I know what this is..."

Slowly, so very slowly, Stiles eyes started to glow. It wasn't the yellow of a Beta, the Red of an Alpha, nor the Blue of someone who has killed an innocent. His eyes glowed white, with a black rim around them. Getting to his feet, the Wolf circled around him, and sat at Stiles' feet, eyes mirroring his own.

From the valley beyond the woods, a black wolf padded into the clearing, taking a seat at Derek's feet, eyes glowing Blue, as Derek's were now.

Crossing the clearing in a few steps, the wolf padding silently beside him, Stiles reached out to the confused Derek who seemed to be rooted to his spot. Tilting his head up, he said with a soft smile.

"I forgive you. Now it's time to forgive yourself."

Pressing a kiss to Derek's lips, he heard the older man gasp, as he wrapped his arms around Stiles, crushing him with all his strength, but not finding the bones in his grasp delicate like a human's. Breaking the kiss, the Blue in his eyes faded, replaced with the Alpha red he'd earned. 

"What you wanted most, deep in your soul, was forgiveness of the ones you felt you betrayed."

"You're the White Wolf of the Woods?"

"Who knows. What I do know, is that it's time to wake up."

Pressing one last kiss to Derek's lips, they walked through the clearing, looking up as the full moon pushed through the cloud cover, bathing them in moonlight, their wolves walking half a step back, rubbing their shoulders together in an effort to scent each other. 

"I'm afraid."

"I'll be right there when you wake up."

Taking a deep breath as the dreamscape dissolved around them, Stiles bolted up on the gurney. The ward around the office had fallen already, and the already tiny space was jam packed with more people than were here when he passed out. Throwing himself from the gurney, he went over to Derek and smiled a relieved smile as the wounds sealed themselves and his eyes fluttered open. Tears spilled unbidden as Derek's eyes opened, flashing Alpha red for a bare moment.

"You're here."

"I'm here."

Pulling Stiles into his arms, he hugged with all his might, stopping only after a second to stop from hurting the Human. Pressing his nose to Stiles throat, he breathed in deeply. He smelled of clean air, grass, sweat...and the woods. Eyes going wide, he traced Stiles' chest through his shirt, resting his palm on the very steady beat of his heart.

Eyes flashing white like they had in the dreamscape, Stiles smile faltered.

"I...I had to. I had to save you."

In the back, Deaton was trying to explain to everyone what had happened. How Stiles had put the Bite on Derek, in order to reach him in his dreamworld.

"I had no other choice."

Before anyone could say anything further, Stiles doubled over, arms clutching his stomach. Derek whipped himself off the gurney and crouched beside Stiles.

"The change. Everyone...everyone needs to get out of here."

Looking into Stiles eyes, the irises so white they gave off a blue tinge. Seeing the white fur starting to push through, his eyes went wide.

"It's a full shift. Everyone needs to GET THE FUCK OUT."

He all but roared. Feeling his own shift starting as a response, he looked down curiously. He was going to fully shift too.

"But...I don't have a full wolf..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The SUPER evil part of me was going to end the story here, and the next story pick up from where this one left off. FORTUNATELY I have decided against that and will wrap this storyline up before I start plotting out the next one. :-)
> 
> And I know I don't say it often enough, but thank you for reading, and commenting. It means a lot to me that you all enjoy what I've done.


	25. We Owned the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new dynamic emerges as the healing begins.

Deaton had lead the humans into another room, safe in a ring of mountain ash. Two Alphas could in theory bust through, but that wasn't much of a risk. The back door to the vet clinic was wide open and the smells of the forest slipped in, pulling at the werewolves more primal nature. The urge to run.

Jackson and Isaac had both wolfed out. Scott was holding himself together, at least for the time being. Derek was partially shifted, but the urge to give in to a full shift was strong. Looking through the red haze at Stiles whose brain was fighting with the possibility of turning into a wolf, Derek felt a stab of panic.

"Just relax Stiles. Your body knows what it needs to do. Just stop fighting it."

There was no recognition in his eyes that he'd been spoken to.

"SCOTT. Snap out of it. How did you get through your first shift?"

Scott indicated the human fighting to keep his body human shaped.

"He did. First time I shifted. First time I fully shifted. He talked me through it."

Looking at Stiles who was on all fours, coarse white fur sprouting up and disappearing like waves on a beach, he looked up at Scott and Derek. Letting out a howl that was halfway between pain and amusement, they immediately dropped to all fours and levelled their gaze at him.

"Is he..."

"...an Alpha?"

Exchanging a look, they looked back at Stiles, and allowed their own transformation to overtake them. Closing his eyes, Derek felt his clothing rip as his body contorted itself into a new configuration. Opening them, he saw his paws below him. Steady and itching to run. Midnight black fur covered him from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tale, aside from a small white patch above his heart. Looking over at Scott, he'd shifted to a grey wolf, with very little colour variation. Scott was smaller, more compact. He stood taller at the shoulder and held a more powerful structure.

Looking at Stiles, his human brain worked, but the animal was taking hold too. He could smell his mate. Tail wagging, he sat down and pawed at Stiles hand, before looking at the door. Letting out a little questioning yelp, he cocked his head to the side. Pawing a bit more impatiently, he nuzzled Stiles' face.

Something in the questioning yelp triggered an action in Stiles. Closing his eyes and sinking down, he stopped fighting for half a second which was all his body needed to effect the change. Watching in rapt filled attention, he and Scott inched back as Stiles disappeared, to be replaced by a wolf whose fur was white as snow, with a black patch above his own heart. 

Tilting their heads back, the three of them let out a howl of excitement, and were very soon scrambling over the linoleum floor to get out side. Stiles tossed an annoyed little chuff over his shoulder at the indignity of skittering like an over excited beagle on the floor, but the minute his paws touched the soul, he was off like a shot, reveling in the freedom being on four paws gave him. 

Launching himself over Jackson's bewildered head, he didn't even pause to see if anyone was following him. He could sense them. He knew where they were, without even having to think about it. 

Lifting his nose, he caught a scent trail. Scrambling after it, he heard Derek and Scott loping after him in their full wolf forms, with Jackson and Isaac scrambling in half and half form. Clearing over a fallen log, running past where the Nemeton was, and bursting into a clearing, he paced a circle, ever alert to the dangers that were around him. Turning, he caught a flash of white from the corner of his eye. Chasing the light, he felt himself getting dizzy. Lunging after it, he caught the offending creature in his teeth. 

Stopping mid-bite, he realized he had just chased his tail and caught it. Realizing he wasn't alone in the clearing, he gave an annoyed growl at Derek and Scott who were laughing at him...in so far as a wolf can laugh at anyone. Giving Jackson and Isaac the stink eye, he stuck his tongue out and walked away from them with some semblance of dignity.

That was, until he found himself flopping like a rag doll, rolling through the grass, with the weight of another wolf on his back. Getting to his feet, he saw Derek bounding around like a puppy dog. Giving himself a shake, he attempted to tackle Derek, but the older, more experienced wolf saw the move coming a mile away and jumped out of the way, leaving Stiles to go sliding into a small bushel of wild roses.

Shaking himself off, he walked back into the clearing where Isaac and Jackson were wrestling, Scott was watching to the one side, and Derek...was nowhere to be seen. Sitting down, his ears perked up and he was on edge until he felt Derek sit beside him and set something at his feet. It was a mouse. A dead mouse. But a mouse. The human part of him was repelled. The wolf part of him licked its lips. Derek nosed it over to him, indicating it was for him. 

Not needing to be told twice, he picked up the offering and devoured it in two bites. His stomach growled for more. Derek disappeared and came back with a couple more mice and a rabbit they shared. Laying down in the clearing, he sighed a contented sigh as Derek licked away the blood on his muzzle, and as he did the same for his mate. Stretching out, suddenly tired, he felt Scott curl up at his stomach, and Derek curl up at his back. Jackson and Isaac insinuated themselves into the fur pile, and promised to keep an eye out while they rested. Closing his eyes, the last thing he remembered thinking was, "It was worth it. Thank god. It was worth it."

***

Waking up some time later, he realized he was back in human form, and not wearing a stitch of clothing. Ordinarily that should have bothered him.

Just like the thought of eating raw mice and rabbit should have bothered him. 

But there was nothing shameful about this nudity. It was just...a fact. Like the fact he apparently now could turn into a full wolf. It was just reality. 

Looking around the clearing, he saw Derek standing guard over the three sleeping wolves, also not wearing a stitch of clothing. Normally such a sight would have him hard and begging for it, but in this clearing, it was innocent nudity. No one expecting anything more than just being there. Wrapping his arms around Derek's trim waist, he pressed a kiss between Derek's well developed pecs.

Okay. So he couldn't resist himself sometimes.

"You're thinking too loudly."

Derek tilted Stiles face up to look him directly in the eye.

"Don't ever leave me like that again."

In a heartbeat, the normally stoic man collapsed into tears, gasping to swallow the sounds of his emotion.

"Don't ever leave us like that. Isaac hasn't had a decent night sleep in a year. Scott could barely shift at all. I was in so deep that the only thing that brought me back was your Dad and Melissa having a baby."

Stiles opened his mouth, but Derek clamped his hand over it.

"I know why you did it. I respect why you did it. But don't leave me again. I'm not strong enough to survive it a second time."

Pulling Stiles into a tight hug, he felt the others slowly wake up.

"Isaac. Run to the house and grab us something to wear. I...don't think they'd appreciate seeing three of us walk back in naked. Jackson. Find out whose house they've gone to and tell them we'll meet them there."

Watching the still dressed members of their party disappear into the woods, Stiles was suddenly feeling a little exposed. Covering himself with his hands, he let Derek position him so they were hiding each others genitals with each other's legs. Relaxing a bit, he rested his head over Derek's heart. Feeling the steady beat, he let it soothe his over active mind. 

"Wait. Dad and Melissa had a baby? Man. You miss a lot when you're dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done but for the epilogue.


	26. Epilogue - July 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As questions are answered, more questions are asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the epilogue to "Slipping Through My Fingers."
> 
> If you liked this, I'd suggest subscribing to the series. I will be working on another part very soon, and plotting out a few more as well. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your support while I was writing this. It was very much appreciated.

The day rolled in with precious little fanfare. The humans had retreated to the Stilinski residence and caught some sleep on whatever surfaces they could, while the wolves ran to their hearts content. 

Stopping along the way to pick up mass quantities of coffee and breakfast items, the Pack rolled in, high energy, and looking more alive than they'd felt since the summer previous. Questions were asked, and explanations were given. 

How it had been Stiles' idea to reach out to the witches he and Scott knew at school, to trace his life energy, and pull him out of reality when it looked like he was going to die. How Neal and Nancy had come back around the time that Laura was born, to finish the spell with a Soul Stone to retrieve Stiles, and the binding potion so the Cherufe's human side would be neutralized power wise when they arrived.

He didn't dare tell anyone in case it didn't work. He didn't want to get their hopes up and have it fail. 

There was some upset, to be sure, but given all the other craziness that happened in their lives, they also were pretty quick to forgive. In so long as he promised not to do anything so stupid again. 

Paper work had been filed to get Stiles back into the legal land of the living. The Sheriff used a few of his contacts, fudged a couple reports, and convinced the powers that be that he'd had to put his son in witness protection. The university bought that, and let him re-enroll. Opting for courses during summer semester, he would be able to catch back up and graduate on time. Helped he had taken summer courses since first year.

Willow had come back a few days after she'd heard of Stiles return. Seeing the animated conversation between the two of them made Derek smile. Especially when, tear streaked and exhausted, she had rolled up a newspaper and was whacking him over the nose, screaming something at him in Hebrew that he'd later learned were threats to his very soul if he did something like that to them again. They then hugged, and she taught him a simple potion that they could drink if they ever wanted to get drunk.

Willow was officially Derek's favourite cousin.

***

Pulling the two of them into a separate room, Willow slid the door closed behind them, and pulled them into a tight hug.

"So. I'm on my way out. There's a nest of vampires that's about to rise in New York and my squad is getting set to take them out. Before I go though, I just wanted to say, it was fantastic seeing you both and..."

She reached out and pressed a hand to both of their hearts. Closing her eyes, she smiled.   
"You're going to have a child together."

Derek's jaw dropped. Stiles just about dropped all together.

"Not yet. The spark is still developing. But there is an energy that is passed between you, and in your hearts you are nurturing it. It's rare...very rare...and it may take an accomplished witch to bring it to fruition."

When Willow opened her eyes, they were glowing green. Her skin smoothed out so it was as alabaster. She was channelling her powers, but the life giving side of them.

"Take care of each other. And if you ever need me...just call."

With no further fanfare, she disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving two very shocked and startled Alphas in her wake.

Exchanging a look with Stiles, Derek couldn't help but let his dopey grin take root.

"We're going to be parents?"

"Not just yet."

"We're going to be parents."

"Not just yet."

"What do you think about Claudia?"

"Not just yet."

"Stiles. Are you even listening."

Blinking.

"Not just yet."

Pressing a firm kiss to Stiles' lips, he lead them back out to where everyone was sitting and waiting for them.

***

The engulfing whiteness was as unchanging as it ever was. And yet, there was a distinct buzzing of energy as the denizens of the realm were pulled in for their consensus. Half the faction was livid. Half the faction was thrilled. The entire quorum was at least vaguely amused.

"It has passed."

"It has happened."

"Was this the intention when Than was created?"

"He was always the designate for That to take hold in reality."

"The White Wolf of the Woods."

"Mated to the Black Wolf of the Valley."

"Defended by the Grey Wolf of the Plains."

"What of the Red Wolf of the City?"

"Or the Brown Wolf of the Desert?"

"This is not their story. Their story shall come in due time."

"Do we agree?"

The agreement shivers through the air.

"We have consensus."

A hush falls over the group.

"Why did you inform them of the Spark?"

In the white space, a form took shape, more distinct than it had been in the past. Willing herself to reality, Willow appeared, followed shortly by a round table, divided equally into infinite spaces. The spaces adjusted to the number of Quorum members participating in the meetings.

"It is their right to know."

"Yet you didn't tell them about what the outcome of the battle was to be?"

Alan Deaton appeared at her side.

"That would have skewed the balance."

"You would have let the Black Wolf of the Valley die?"

Deucalion appeared, taking his place at the table.

"Free will. We don't have to like it, but we do have to honour it."

"This changes nothing. The course must maintain."

"They have earned their reprieve."

"It will be short lived."  
"What matters is that it lives."

A feeling of agreement slid through the air.

"We have consensus."

"We have duties to attend to."

"We all have duties."

"Will we remember?"

"We will have the sense."

"It is curious to see where this leads."

"This leads to a future imperfect."

"Made all the more perfect by their flaws."

A feeling of contentedness slips through their group.

"We have consensus."

***

"Okay. Derek. I get it. My eyes are closed. We're standing on the front porch. And I can hear other people out there. So spill. What is it?"

Derek chuckles low in his throat. "You can open your eyes Stiles."

Opening his eyes and looking around, their nearest and dearest were standing on the front lawn, dressed in their sunday best holding what looked like flutes of...champagne? Looking to his left, he didn't see Derek standing there, but caught movement just below his level of sight. Looking down, his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"Uhhh...."

Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple small black box. Opening it, he revealed two identical rings of braided white and yellow gold, inlaid with onyx stones all the way around.

"Dude?"

"Stiles...Will you marry me?"

"DUDE!!!"

Stiles nodded his head so quickly, Derek was afraid it would shoot right off. Slipping Stiles' ring on his left ring finger, he slid his own engagement band on before he got to his feet. Scooping up Stiles in his arms, he spun around while everyone gave them a round of applause.

Pressing their foreheads together, they were grinning like idiots. Accepting a glass of champagne from Stiles' Dad, they gave each other a tender kiss, not trusting themselves to behave if they kissed any harder.

"To the future."

"To the future."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Everything tied up in a nice tidy package.
> 
> Except it isn't.
> 
> At all. LOL
> 
> XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> Very rusty writer here, so please be gentle. I'll be posting as I complete each chapter. Not beta read. Slight liberties taken. No offence intended. I own nothing of the characters. 
> 
> Making a few basic assumptions for this story. The story kicks off in Summer 2017. Jumps back to the 'beginning' in Winter 2015.
> 
> Derek's Year of Birth: 1988  
> Scott and Stiles' Year of Birth: 1995
> 
> No underage in this at all.
> 
> Oh yeah. Will write for feedback. Positive preferred. Polite constructive criticism welcome. 
> 
> Twitter: @BlaiddDrwg1982


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